LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


'"WHY    DON'T    YOU     LOOK     BEFORE     YOL'     SHOOT?' 
SHOUTED    KIT.— Pa^e  107 


[  T/w  Buccanerr  Fariiiei] 


THE  BUCCANEER 
FARMER 

By  HAROLD    BINDLOSS 

Author  of  "The  Lure  of  the  North,"   "The  Girl 

FROM  Keller's,"  "Carmen's  Messenger,"  "Brandon 

OF  THE  Engineers,"  "Johnstone  of  the  Border," 

"Prescott  of  Saskatchewan,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


fVi 


Copyright,  1918,  by  Frbdbrick  A.  Stokhs  Company 

PUBLISHED   IN    ENGLAND   UNDER  THE  TITLK   "aSKBW'S   VICTORT" 


ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


CONTENTS 


PART  I  — AT  ASHNESS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  The  Lease    ..........      3 

II    The  Otter  Hounds     . 15 

III  A  Council  of  Defense      .     ,.,    ,.:     .     .     .     24 

IV  The  Peat  Cutters  ...     c,     ....     33 

V  Railton's  Tally     ........     42 

VI  Bleatarn  Ghyll    .     .     .     .     ,.     .     .     .51 

VII  The  Reckoning      ........     61 

VIII     Grace  Finds  a  Way 71 

IX  The  Plan  Works  ........     79 

X    Janet  Meddles 89 

XI     Osborn's  Pride  Gets  Hurt 99 

XII    Osborn  Interferes 109 

PART  II  — ON  THE  CARIBBEAN 

I    The  Old  Buccaneer 119 

II     The  Presidio ,      .   129 

III  The  Gold  Onza 138 

IV  The  President's  Ball 147 

V  Olsen's  Offer 158 

VI    The  President's  Watchers 168 

VII  Adam  Resumes  Control  ......   177 

/III    The  Mangrove  Swamp 188 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

IX  Adam's  Last  Request 196 

X  The  Road  to  the  Mission 204 

XI  Kit  Keeps  His  Promise 212 

XII  The  Last  Cargo 219 

PART  III  —  KIT'S  RETURN 

I     Kit's  Welcome 233 

II     A  Dangerous  Talent 241 

III  The  Horse  Show 252 

IV  The  Flood 262 

V    Kit  Tells  a  Story 272 

VI     Thorn  Makes  a  Plan 282 

VII     Gerald's  Return 290 

VIII     Grace's  Confidence 298 

IX     Kit  Goes  to  the  Rescue 309 

X     Grace's  Choice 318 

XI    Osborn's  Surrender 326 


PART  I— AT  ASHNESS 


THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   LEASE 

THE  morning  was  bright  after  heavy  rain,  and 
when  Osborn  looked  out  of  the  library  window  a 
warm,  south-west  breeze  shook  the  larches  about  Tarn- 
side  Hall.  Now  and  then  a  shadow  sped  across  the 
tarn,  darkening  the  ripples  that  sparkled  like  silver 
when  the  cloud  drove  on.  Osborn  frowned,  for  he 
had  meant  to  go  fishing  and  it  was  a  morning  when 
the  big,  shy  trout  would  rise.  His  game-keeper  was 
waiting  at  the  boathouse,  but  the  postman  had  brought 
some  letters  that  made  him  put  off  his  sport. 

This  was  annoying,  because  Osborn  hated  to  be 
balked  and  seldom  allowed  anything  to  interfere  with 
his  amusements.  One  letter,  from  a  housemaster  at  a 
famous  public  school,  covered  a  number  of  bills,  which, 
the  writer  stated  somewhat  curtly,  ought  to  have  been 
paid.  Another  announced  that  Hayes,  the  agent  for 
the  estate,  and  a  tenant  would  wait  upon  Osborn,  who 
knew  what  they  meant  to  talk  about.  He  admitted  that 
a  landlord  had  duties,  but  his  generally  demanded  at- 
tention at  an  inconvenient  time. 

Osborn  was  fifty  years  of  age.  He  had  a  ruddy  skin 
and  well-proportioned  figure,  and  was,  physically,  a 
rather  fine  example  of  the  sporting  country  gentleman. 
For  all  that,  there  were  lines  on  his  forehead  and 
wrinkles  about  his  eyes;  his  mouth  was  loose  and 
sensual,  and  something  about  him  hinted  at  indulgence. 

3 


4  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

His  manner,  as  a  rule,  was  abrupt  and  often  over- 
bearing. 

The  library  was  spacious,  the  furniture  in  good  taste 
but  getting  shabby.  In  fact,  a  certain  look  of  age  and 
shabbiness  was  typical  of  the  house.  Although  the 
windows  were  open,  the  room  had  a  damp  smell,  and 
the  rows  of  books  that  Osborn  never  read  were  touched 
with  mildew.  Rain  was  plentiful  in  the  north-country 
dale,  coal  was  dear,  and  Mrs.  Osborn  was  forced 
to  study  economy,  partly  because  her  husband  would 
not. 

By  and  by  Osborn  turned  his  glance  from  the  win- 
dow and  fixed  it  on  his  son,  who  stood  waiting  across 
the  big  oak  table.  Gerald  was  a  handsome  lad,  like  his 
father,  but  marked  by  a  certain  refinement  and  a  hint 
of  delicacy.  Although  he  felt  anxious,  his  pose  was 
free  and  graceful  and  his  look  undisturbed.  Osborn 
threw  the  bills  on  the  table. 

"  This  kind  of  thing  must  stop,"  he  said.  "  I  haven't 
grumbled  much,  perhaps  not  as  much  as  I  ought,  about 
your  extravagance,  but  only  a  fool  imagines  he  can 
spend  more  than  he  has  got." 

"  We  have  had  such  fools  in  our  family,"  the  boy 
remarked,  and  stopped  when  he  saw  Osborn's  color 
rise. 

"  It's  a  pity  it's  true,"  the  latter  agreed,  with  a  pa- 
tience he  did  not  often  use.  "  I'm  paying  for  it  now 
and  you  will  pay  a  higher  price,  if  you  go  on  as  you 
promise.  You  must  pull  up;  I've  done  enough  and 
am  getting  tired  of  self-denial." 

Gerald's  smile  faded.  He  had  inherited  his  ex- 
travagance from  his  father,  but  felt  he  must  be  cau- 
tious, although  Osborn  sometimes  showed  him  a  for- 
bearance he  used  to  nobody  else. 

"  I'm  sorry,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps  I  was  extrava- 
gant, but  if  you  don't  want  to  be  an  outsider,  you  must 
do  like  the  rest,  and  I  understood  you  expected  me  to 


THE  LEASE  5 

make    friends    among    our    own    set.     We    can't    be 
shabby." 

He  struck  the  right  note,  for  Osborn  was  not  clever 
and  perhaps  his  strongest  characteristic  was  his  exag- 
gerated family  pride. 

"  You  had  enough  and  I  paid  your  debts  not  long 
since,"  he  said.  "  In  fact,  you  have  had  more  than 
your  share,  with  the  consequence  that  Grace  gets  less 
than  hers."  He  knitted  his  brows  as  he  indicated  the 
house-master's  curt  letter.  "  Then,  you  have  given 
a  stranger  an  opportunity  for  writing  to  me  like 
this." 

Gerald,  knowing  his  father's  humor,  saw  he  was  get- 
ting on  dangerous  ground. 

"  Brown's  a  dry  old  prig,  sir.  Nothing  sporting 
about  him;  he's  hardly  a  gentleman." 

Osborn  was  seldom  logical  and  now  his  annoyance 
was  rather  concentrated  on  the  master  who  had  writ- 
ten to  him  with  jarring  frankness  than  on  the  extrava- 
gant lad. 

"  His  letter  implies  it,"  he  agreed  and  then  pulled 
himself  up.  Gerald  was  clever  and  no  doubt  meant 
to  divert  his  thoughts.  "  After  all,  this  doesn't  mat- 
ter," he  went  on.  "  I'll  pay  these  bills,  but  if  you  get 
into  debt  at  Woolwich,  you  had  better  not  come  home. 
I  have  enough  trouble  about  money,  and  your  allow- 
ance is  going  to  be  a  strain.  There's  another  thing: 
Carter,  who  hasn't  had  your  advantages,  got  in  as  a 
prize  cadet." 

Gerald  smiled.  "  He  hasn't  got  his  commission. 
Old  Harry  means  well,  but  he's  not  our  sort,  and  these 
plodding,  cramming  fellows  seldom  make  good 
officers." 

"  An  officer  must  pay  his  mess  bills,  whether  he's 
good  or  bad,"  Osborn  rejoined.  "  If  you  go  into  the 
Horse  Artillery,  there  won't  be  much  money  left  when 
you  have  settled  yours,  so  it  might  be  prudent  to  begin 


6  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

some  self-denial  now.     Anyhow,  if  you  get  into  debt 
again,  you  know  the  consequences." 

He  raised  liis  hand  in  dismissal  and  walked  to  the 
w^indow  when  the  lad  went  out.  He  had  not  taken  the 
line  he  meant  to  take,  but  Gerald  often,  so  to  speak, 
eluded  him.  The  lad  had  a  way  of  hinting  that  they 
understood  one  another  and  Osborn  vaguely  suspected 
that  he  worked  upon  his  prejudices;  but  he  was  a 
sportsman.  He  had  pluck  a.pd  knew  what  the  Osborn 
traditions  demanded.  In  fact,  Gerald  might  go  far, 
if  he  went  straight. 

Then  Osborn  thought  he  needed  a  drink,  and  after 
ringing  a  bell  he  sat  down  by  the  window  with  the 
tray  and  glass  a  servant  brought.  It  was  significant 
that  he  had  given  no  order ;  the  servants  knew  what  the 
bell  meant.  When  he  had  drained  the  glass  he  vacantly 
looked  out  Boggy  pasture  and  stony  cornfields  ran 
back  from  the  tarn.  Here  and  there  a  white  farm- 
stead, surrounded  by  stunted  trees,  stood  at  the  hill  foot; 
farther  back  a  waterfall  seamed  the  rocks  and  yellow 
grass  with  threads  of  foam;  and  then  a  lofty  moor, 
red  with  heather,  shut  ofif  the  view. 

The  land  was  poor  at  the  dale  head,  but  there  was 
better  below,  where  the  hills  dropped  down  to  the  flat 
country,  and,  with  the  exception  of  Ashness  farm,  all 
was  Osbom's,  from  Force  Crag,  where  the  beck 
plunged  from  the  moor,  to  the  rich  bottoms  round 
Allerby  mill.  Unfortunately,  the  estate  was  encum- 
bered when  he  inherited  it,  and  he  had  paid  off  one 
mortgage  by  raising  another.  He  might  perhaps  have 
used  other  means,  letting  his  sporting  rights  and  using 
economy,  but  this  would  have  jarred.  The  only  Os- 
born who  bothered  about  money  was  his  wife,  and 
Alice  was  parsimonious  enough  for  both.  Money  was 
certainly  what  his  agent  called  tight;  but  as  long  as  he 
could  give  his  friends  some  shooting  and  a  good  din- 
ner and  live  as  an  Osborn  ought  to  live,  he  was  satis- 


THE  LEASE  7 

fied.  Still,  Gerald  must  have  his  chance  at  Woolwich 
and  this  needed  thought.  Osborn  felt  he  would  like  an- 
other drink,  but  glanced  at  his  watch  and  saw  that  his 
visitors  would  arrive  in  a  few  minutes. 

They  were  punctual  and  Osborn  got  up  when  his 
agent  and  another  man  came  in.  Hayes  was  tall, 
urbane,  and  dressed  with  rather  fastidious  neatness; 
Bell  was  round-shouldered  and  shabby.  He  had  a 
weather-beaten  skin,  gray  hair,  and  small,  cunning  eyes. 
Osborn  indicated  chairs  and  sat  down  at  the  top  of  the 
big  table.  He  disliked  business  and  knew  the  others 
meant  to  persuade  him  to  do  something  he  would  sooner 
leave  alone.  This  would  have  been  impossible  had  he 
not  needed  money. 

"  Mr.  Bell  wishes  to  know  if  his  tender  for  the  Slate 
Company's  haulage  is  approved,"  Hayes  began.  "  His 
traction  engine  is  suited  for  the  work  and  he  is  prepared 
to  buy  a  trailer  lurry,  which  we  would  find  useful  in 
the  dale.  Mechanical  transport  would  be  a  public  ad- 
vantage on  our  hilly  roads." 

"  It  needs  a  good  horse  to  bring  half  a  load  from 
station,"  Bell  interposed.  "  T'  lurry  would  move  as 
much  in  yan  day  as  farmers'  carts  in  four." 

Osborn  agreed.  He  was  not  much  of  an  economist, 
but  it  was  obvious  that  time  and  labor  were  wasted 
when  a  farmer  took  a  few  sacks  of  potatoes  to  the  rail- 
way and  another  a  sack  of  wool.  There  was  no  diffi- 
culty about  the  tender,  because  Osborn  was  chairman 
of  the  small  Slate  Company;  the  trouble  was  that  the 
contract  would  help  Bell  to  carry  out  another  plan. 
The  fellow  was  greedy,  and  was  getting  a  rather 
dangerous  control;  he  had  already  a  lease  of  the  lime- 
kilns and  Allerby  mill.  But  his  rents  were  regularly 
paid,  and  it  was  an  advantage  to  deal  with  one  pros- 
perous tenant  instead  of  several  who  had  not  his  punc- 
tuality and  capital. 

"  The  trailer  would  be  useful  if  you  decided  to  make 


8  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

the  new  terrace  you  thought  about,"  Hayes  suggested. 
"  The  cost  of  carting  the  gravel  and  the  slabs  for  the 
wall  would  be  heavy;  but  I  have  no  doubt  Mr.  Bell 
would  undertake  the  work  with  the  trailer  on  very 
reasonable  terms." 

"  I  might  forget  to  send  in  t'  bill.  Yan  good  turn 
deserves  another,"  Bell  remarked. 

Hayes  frowned.  He  had  meant  to  imply  something 
like  this,  but  Bell  was  too  blunt.  For  all  that,  Osborn 
was  not  very  fastidious  and  had  long  meant  to  make 
the  terrace  when  funds  permitted.  In  fact,  he  hardly 
saw  the  thing  as  a  bribe ;  it  was  rather  a  graceful  recog- 
nition of  his  authority. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  I'll  sign  the  contract" 

"  There  is  another  matter,"  Hayes  resumed.  "  Mr. 
Bell  is  willing  to  take  up  Harkness'  tenancy  of  the  coal 
yard  and  seed  store  at  the  station.  He  hopes  you  will 
grant  him  a  long  lease." 

Osborn  pondered.  Harkness  had  been  drunken, 
careless,  and  often  behind  with  his  rent.  He  had  let 
his  business  fall  away  and  it  was  understood  that  Bell, 
who  managed  the  opposition  coal  yard,  had  lent  him 
small  sums  and  until  recently  kept  him  on  his  feet. 
This  was  not  because  Bell  was  charitable,  but  because 
if  Harkness  came  down  while  he  had  any  trade  left,  a 
capable  rival  might  take  his  place.  In  the  meantime, 
his  customers  gradually  went  to  Bell,  and  now  Hark- 
ness had  failed  there  was  no  business  to  attract  a  new- 
comer. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Osborn,  "  I  had  thought  of 
advertising  the  yard  and  store." 

"  You'll  get  nobody  to  pay  what  I'm  offering,"  Bell 
replied.  "  A  stranger  would  want  to  see  Harkness' 
books  and  there's  nowt  in  them  as  would  tempt  him 
to  pay  a  decent  rent.  Then,  with  trailer  going  back 
from  station,  I  could  beat  him  on  the  haulage  up  the 


THE  LEASE  9 

dale.  He'd  niver  get  his  money  back  if  he  bowt  an 
engine  "like  mine." 

This  was  plausible,  but  Osborn  hesitated.  He  saw 
that  Bell  wanted  a  monopoly  and  had  a  vague  notion 
that  he  ought  to  protect  his  tenants. 

"  It's  sometimes  an  advantage  to  have  two  traders 
in  a  place,"  he  remarked.  "  A  certain  amount  of  com- 
petition is  healthy." 

"  I  don't  know  if  it  would  be  an  advantage  to  the 
estate,  and  imagine  you  would  not  get  a  tenant  to  pay 
what  Bell  offers,"  Hayes  replied.  "  Besides,  rival 
traders  sometimes  agree  to  keep  up  prices,  and  com- 
petition does  not  always  make  things  cheap." 

"  That's  one  of  the  ridiculous  arguments  people  who 
want  the  Government  to  manage  everything  sometimes 
use,"  said  Osborn  with  a  scornful  gesture. 

Hayes  smiled,  "  It  is  very  well  known  that  I  am  not 
an  advocate  of  State  ownership.  All  the  same,  un- 
necessary competition  would  be  wasteful  in  the  dale. 
For  example,  if  you  have  two  tenants  at  the  station, 
the  farmers  who  deal  with  the  new  man  must  use  their 
carts,  each  coming  separately  for  the  small  load  a  horse 
can  take  up  Redmire  bank,  while  Bell's  trailer,  after 
bringing  down  the  slate,  would  go  back  empty.  Then 
I  hear  some  talk  about  a  fresh  appeal  to  the  council 
to  make  the  loop  road  round  the  hill." 

For  a  moment  or  two  Osborn  did  not  answer.  Red- 
mire bank  was  an  obstacle  to  horse  traffic,  and  the  road 
surveyor  had  plans  for  easing  the  gradient  that  would 
necessitate  cutting  down  a  wood  where  Osborn's 
pheasants  found  shelter.  He  had  refused  permission, 
and  the  matter  had  been  dropped;  but,  if  the  farmers 
insisted,  the  council  might  be  forced  to  use  their  powers. 
He  was  obstinate,  and  did  not  mean  to  let  them  have 
the  wood  unless  he  could  get  his  price. 

''  You  know  my  opinion  about  that  ?  "  he  said. 


lo  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  Yes,"  said  Hayes ;  "  I  imagine  it  would  be  prudent 
not  to  have  the  matter  brought  up.  However,  if  Bell 
can  send  back  his  lurry  full,  the  economy  is  plain. 
It  will  enable  him  to  sell  his  coal  and  seed  at  a  mod- 
erate price  and  pay  a  higher  rent." 

"  That's  so,"  Osborn  agreed,  and  knitted  his  brows. 

He  doubted  if  Bell  would  give  his  customers  the 
benefit  of  the  cheaper  haulage,  but  the  advantage  of 
getting  a  higher  rent  was  obvious.  Osborn  knew  he 
was  being  persuaded  to  do  a  shabby  thing  and  hesitated. 
Money,  however,  was  needed  and  must  be  got. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  Mr.  Bell  can  have  the 
lease." 

They  talked  about  something  else,  and  when  Osborn 
went  fishing  after  the  others  left  the  wind  had  dropped, 
the  sun  was  bright,  and  the  trout  would  not  rise. 
He  felt  rather  injured,  because  he  had  paid  for  his  at- 
tention to  duty,  when  he  joined  his  wife  and  daughter 
at  tea  on  the  lawn. 

A  copper  beech  threw  a  cool  shadow  across  the 
small  table  and  basket  chairs;  the  china  and  silver 
were  old  and  good.  Beyond  the  belt  of  wavering 
shade,  the  recently  mown  grass  gave  out  a  moist  smell 
in  the  hot  sun.  The  grass  grew  fine  and  close,  for  the 
turf  was  old,  but  there  were  patches  of  ugly  weeds. 
The  borders  by  the  house  were  thinly  planted  and  the 
color  plan  was  rude,  but  one  could  not  do  much  with 
a  rheumatic  gardener  and  a  boy.  There  used  to  be  two 
men,  but  Mrs.  Osborn  had  insisted  on  cutting  wages 
down. 

Across  the  yew  hedge,  the  tarn  sparkled  like  a  mirror 
and  on  its  farther  side,  where  a  clump  of  dark  pines 
overhung  a  beach  of  silver  sand,  the  hillslopes  shone 
with  yellow  grass,  relieved  by  the  green  of  fern  and 
belts  of  moss.  The  spot  was  picturesque ;  the  old  house, 
with  its  low,  straight  front  and  mullioned  windows, 
round  which  creepers  grew,  had  a  touch  of  quiet  beauty. 


THE  LE.\SE  11 

Osborn  was  proud  of  Tarside,  although  he  sometimes 
chafed  because  he  had  not  enough  money  to  care  for  it 
as  he  ought. 

By  and  by  he  glanced  at  his  wife,  who  had  silently 
filled  the  cups  and  was  cutting  cake.  She  was  a  thin, 
quiet  woman,  with  a  hint  of  reserve  in  her  delicately 
molded  face.  Sometimes  she  tactfully  exercised  a  re- 
straining influence,  but  for  the  most  part  acquiesced, 
for  she  had  found  out,  soon  after  her  marriage,  that 
her  husband  must  not  be  opposed. 

Grace,  who  sat  opposite,  had  recently  come  home 
from  school,  and  was  marked  by  an  independence 
somewhat  unusual  at  Tarnside.  She  argued  with  Os- 
born and  was  firm  when  he  got  angry.  •  Then  she  had 
a  fresh  enthusiasm  for  change  and  improvement  and 
a  generous  faith  in  what  she  thought  was  good.  Since 
Osboni  was  obstinately  conventional,  this  sometimes  led 
to  jars. 

"  After  all,  I'm  going  to  have  the  terrace  made,"  he 
remarked,  and  waited  for  his  wife's  approval. 

"Is  it  prudent?"  she  asked  hesitatingly.  "If  I 
remember,  you  thought  the  work  would  cost  too  much 
when  we  talked  about  it  last." 

"  It  will  cost  very  little.  In  fact,  I  imagine  the 
haulage  of  the  gravel  and  the  slabs  for  the  wall  will 
cost  nothing,"  Osborn  replied.  "  Bell  has  promised 
to  bring  me  all  the  stuff  we'll  need  with  his  new 
trailer." 

"  Oh,"  said  Grace,  rather  sharply,  "  I  suppose  this 
means  you  have  given  him  the  lease  of  the  station 
coal  yard?  No  doubt  he  offered  to  bring  the  gravel 
before  you  agreed.  He's  cunning  and  knew  you 
wanted  the  terrace." 

"  I  can't  remember  if  he  offered  before  or  after- 
wards," Osborn  replied,  with  a  touch  of  embarrass- 
ment. "  Anyhow,  I  don't  think  it's  important,  be- 
cause I  did  not  allow  his  offer  to  persuade  me.     For 


12  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

all  that,  it's  some  satisfaction  to  get  the  work  done 
cheap." 

Grace  pondered.  She  was  intelligent;  contact  with 
her  school  companions  had  developed  her  character, 
and  she  had  begun  to  understand  Osborn  since  she 
came  home.  She  knew  he  was  easily  deceived  and 
sometimes  half -consciously  deceived  himself." 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  think  the  work  will  really 
be  cheap.  It's  often  expensive  to  take  a  favor  from 
a  man  like  Bell.  He  will  find  a  means  of  making  you 
pay." 

"  Ridiculous!     Bell  can't  make  me  pay. ' 

"  Then  he  will  make  somebody  else  pay  for  what 
he  does  for  you,  and  it's  hardly  honest  to  let  him," 
Grace  insisted. 

Mrs.  Osborn  gave  her  a  warning  glance  and  Os- 
born's  face  got  red. 

"  It's  a  new  thing  for  a  young  girl  to  criticize  her 
father.  This  is  what  comes  of  indulging  your  mother 
and  making  some  sacrifice  to  send  you  to  an  expensive 
modern  school!  If  I'd  had  my  way,  you  would  have 
gone  to  another,  where  they  teach  the  old-fashioned 
virtues :  modesty,  obedience,  and  respect  for  parents." 

Grace  smiled,  because  she  knew  the  school  Osborn 
meant  and  the  type  it  produced.  She  was  grateful  to 
her  mother  for  a  better  start. 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  said  quietly,  but  with  a  hint  of 
resolution.  "  I  don't  want  to  criticize,  but  Bell  is 
greedy  and  cunning,  and  now  he  has  got  both  coal 
yards  will  charge  the  farmers  more  than  he  ought. 
He  has  already  got  too  large  a  share  of  all  the  business 
that  is  done  in  the  dale." 

"  It's  obvious  that  you  have  learned  less  than  you 
think,"  Osborn  rejoined,  feeling  that  he  was  on  safer 
ground.  "  You  don't  seem  to  understand  that  con- 
centration means  economy.  Bell,  for  example,  buys 
and  stores  his  goods  in  large  quantities,   instead  of 


THE  LEASE  13 

handling  a  number  of  small  lots  at  different  times, 
which  would  cost  him  more." 

"  I  can  see  that,"  Grace  admitted,  "  But  I  imagine 
he  will  keep  all  he  saves.  You  know  the  farmers  are 
grumbling  about  his  charges." 

Osborn  frowned.  "  You  talk  too  much  to  the  farm 
people ;  I  don't  like  it.  You  can  be  polite,  but  I  want 
you  to  remember  they  are  my  tenants,  and  not  to  sym- 
pathize with  their  imaginary  grievances.  They're  a 
grumbling  lot,  but  will  keep  their  places  if  you  leave 
them  alone." 

He  got  up  abruptly  and  when  he  went  off  across  the 
lawn  Mrs.  Osborn  gave  the  girl  a  reproachful  glance. 

"  You  are  very  rash,  my  dear.  On  the  whole,  your 
father  was  remarkably  patient," 

Grace  laughed,  a  rather  strained  laugh,  as  Osbom's 
angry  voice  rose  from  behind  a  shrubbery. 

"  He  isn't  patient  now,  and  I'm  afraid  Jackson  is 
paying  for  my  fault.  However,  I  really  think  I  was 
patient,  too.  To  talk  about  people  keeping  their  places 
is  ridiculous;  in  fact,  it's  piffle!  Father's  notions  are 
horribly  out  of  date.     One  wonders  he  doesn't  know." 

"  Things  change.  Perhaps  we  don't  quite  realize 
this  when  we  are  getting  old.  But  you  mustn't  argue 
with  your  father.  He  doesn't  like  it,  and  when  he's 
annoyed  everybody  suft'ers." 

*'  It's  true;  but  how  illogical !  "  Grace  remarked,  and 
mused  while  she  looked  dreamily  across  the  grass. 

She  was  romantic  and  generous,  and  had  learned 
something  about  social  economy  at  the  famous  school"; 
in  fact,  Osborn  would  have  been  startled  had  he  sus- 
pected how  much  she  knew.  Nevertheless,  she  was 
young;  her  studies  were  half  digested,  and  her  theories 
crude.  She  had  come  home  with  a  vague  notion  of 
playing  the  part  of  Lady  Bountiful  and  putting  things 
right,  but  had  got  a  jar  soon  after  she  began.  Her 
father's  idea  of  iustice  was  elementary:  he  resented 


14  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

her  meddling,  and  was  sometimes  tyrannical.  When 
it  was  obvious  that  he  had  taken  an  improper  line  he 
blamed  his  agent ;  but  perhaps  the  worst  was  he  seldom 
knew  when  he  was  wrong.  Then  the  agent's  main 
object  was  to  extort  as  much  money  from  the  tenants 
as  possible. 

Grace  did  not  see  what  she  could  do,  although 
she  felt  that  something  ought  to  be  done.  She  had 
a  raw,  undisciplined  enthusiasm,  and  imagined  that 
she  was  somehow  responsible.  Yet  when  she  tried 
to  use  some  influence  her  father  got  savage  and  she  felt 
hurt.  Well,  she  must  try  to  be  patient  and  tactful. 
While  she  meditated,  Mrs.  Osbom  got  up,  and  they 
went  back  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   OTTER    HOUNDS 

GRACE'S  tweed  dress  was  wet  and  rather  muddy 
when  she  stood  with  Gerald  on  a  gravel  bank  at 
the  head  of  a  pool,  where  the  beck  from  the  tarn  joined 
a  larger  stream  that  flowed  through  a  neighboring 
dale.  There  had  been  some  rain  and  the  water  was 
stained  a  warm  claret-color  by  the  peat.  Bright  sun- 
shine pierced  the  tossing  alder  branches,  and  the  rapid 
close  by  sparkled  between  belts  of  movir^g  shades. 
Large  white  dogs  with  black  and  yellow  spots  swam 
uncertainly  about  the  pool  and  searched  the  bank ;  a 
group  of  men  stood  in  the  rapid,  while  another  group 
watched  the  tail  of  the  pool.  Somewhere  between 
them  a  hard-pressed  otter  hid. 

A  few  of  the  men  wore  red  coats  and  belonged 
to  the  hunt ;  the  rest  were  shepherds  and  farmers  whom 
custom  entitled  to  join  in  the  sport.  All  carried  long 
iron-pointed  poles  and  waited  with  keen  expectation 
the  reappearance  of  the  otter.  Grace  was  perhaps  the 
only  one  to  feel  a  touch  of  pity  for  the  exhausted 
animal  and  she  wondered  whether  this  was  not  a  senti- 
mental weakness.  There  was  not  much  to  be  said 
for  the  otter's  right  to  live ;  it  was  stealthy,  cruel,  and 
horribly  destructive,  killing  many  more  fish  and  moor- 
hens than  it  could  eat.  Indeed,  before  she  went  to 
school,  she  had  followed  the  hunt  with  pleasant  ex- 
citement, and  was  now^  rather  surprised  to  find  the 
sport  had  lost  its  zest. 

The  odds  against  the  otter  were  too  great,  although 
it  had  for  some  hours  baffled  men  who  knew  the  river, 
and  well-trained  dogs.     It  had  stolen  up  shallow  rapids, 

15 


i6  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

slipping  between  the  watchers'  legs,  dived  under  swim- 
ming dogs,  made  bold  dashes  along  the  bank,  and  hid- 
den in  belts  of  reeds.  Its  capture  had  often  looked 
certain  and  yet  it  had  escaped.  At  first  Grace  had  no- 
ticed the  animal's  confidence,  beauty  of  form,  and 
strength ;  but  it  had  gradually  got  slack,  hesitating,  and 
limp.  Now,  when  it  lurked,  half -drowned,  in  the 
depths  of  the  pool  while  its  pitiless  enemies  waited  for 
it  to  come  up  to  breathe,  she  began  to  wish  it  would 
get  away. 

Thorn,  the  master  of  the  hounds,  was  talking  to 
his  huntsman  not  far  off.  He  was  a  friend  of  Os- 
born's,  and  Grace  had  once  thought  him  a  dashing 
and  accomplished  man  of  the  world,  but  had  recently, 
for  no  obvious  reason,  felt  antagonistic.  Alan  was  not 
as  clever  as  she  had  imagined ;  he  was  smart,  sometimes 
cheaply  smart,  which  was  another  thing.  Then  he 
was  beginning  to  get  fat,  and  she  vaguely  shrank  from 
the  way  he  now  and  then  looked  at  her.  On  the 
whole,  it  was  a  relief  to  note  that  he  was  occupied. 

For  a  few  moments  Grace  let  her  eyes  wander  up 
the  dale  to  the  crags  where  the  force  leaped  down 
from  the  red  moor  at  Malton  Head.  Belts  of  dry 
bent-grass  shone  like  gold  and  mossy  patches  glim- 
mered luminously  green.  The  fall  looked  like  white 
lace  drawn  across  the  stones.  A  streak  of  mist  touched 
the  lofty  crag,  and  above  it  a  soft  white  cloud  trailed 
across  the  sky.     Then  she  turned  as  her  brother  spoke. 

"  Alan  has  given  us  a  good  hunt  and  means  to 
make  a  kill.  He's  rather  a  selfish  beast  and  a  bit  too 
sure  of  himself;  but  he  runs  the  pack  well  and  knows 
how  to  get  the  best  out  of  life.  No  Woolwich  and 
sweating  as  a  snubbed  subaltern  for  him !  He  stopped 
at  home,  saw  his  tenants  farmed  well,  and  shot  his 
game.     That's  my  notion  of  a  country  gentleman!" 

"  Father  can  look  after  Tarn  side  and  a  duty  goes 
with  owning  land,"  Grace  remarked.     "  A  landlord 


THE  OTTER  HOUNDS  17 

who  need  not  work  ought  to  serve  the  State.  That 
idea  was  perhaps  the  best  thing  in  the  feudal  system  and 
it's  not  ahogether  forgotten  yet.  Father  was  right 
when  he  decided  to  make  you  a  soldier." 

"  He  can  send  me  to  Woolwich,  but  after  all  that's 
as  far  as  he  can  go.  You're  not  at  your  best  when 
you're  improving,"  Gerald  rejoined;  and  added  with 
a  grin,  "  You  don't  like  old  Alan,  do  you?  I  thought 
you  snubbed  him  half  an  hour  since." 

Grace  colored,  but  did  not  answer.  She  had  hurt 
her  foot  by  falhng  from  a  mossy  boulder  and  Thorn 
had  come  to  help  as  she  floundered  across  a  shallow 
pool.  She  was  draggled  and  her  hair  was  loose,  and 
Thorn's  faint  amusement  annoyed  her.  Somehow  it 
hinted  at  familiarity.  She  would  not  have  resented 
it  once,  for  they  had  been  friends ;  but  when  she  came 
home  and  he  had  tried  to  renew  the  friendship  she 
had  noted  a  subtle  difference.  Alan  was  forty,  but 
now  she  had  left  school  the  disparity  of  their  ages 
was,  in  a  sense,  much  less  marked.  Then  a  shout 
roused  her  and  she  looked  round. 

Where  the  smooth,  brown  water  ran  past  the  alder 
roots,  a  very  small,  dark  object  moved  in  advance  of 
a  faint,  widening  ripple.  Grace  knew  it  was  the  point 
of  the  otter's  head ;  the  animal's  lungs  were  empty  since 
it  remained  up  so  long.  Next  moment  plunging  dogs 
churned  the  pool  into  foam,  the  object  vanished,  and 
men  ran  along  the  bank  to  the  lower  rapid,  while  those 
already  there  beat  the  shallow  with  their  poles.  The 
dogs  bunched  together  and  began  to  swim  up  stream ; 
Gerald  and  one  or  two  more  plunged  into  the  water, 
and  for  a  few  moments  the  otter  showed  itself  again. 

It  looked  like  a  fish  and  not  an  animal  as  it  broke 
the  surface,  rising  in  graceful  leaps.  Then  it  went 
down,  with  the  dogs  swimming  hard  close  behind,  and 
Grace  thought  it  must  be  caught.  It  was  being  steadily 
driven  to  the  lower  end  of  the  stopped  rapid,  where 


i8  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

the  water  was  scarcely  a  foot  deep.  The  animal  re- 
appeared, plunging  in  and  out  among  the  shallows  but 
forging  up  stream,  and  the  men  who  meant  to  turn  it 
back  closed  up.  There  was  one  at  every  yard  across 
the  belt  of  sparkling  foam.  They  had  spiked  poles  to 
beat  the  water  and  it  seemed  impossible  that  'their  vic- 
tim could  get  past. 

Yet  the  otter  vanished,  and  for  a  minute  or  two  there 
was  silence,  until  the  dogs  rushed  up  the  bank.  Then 
somebody  shouted,  the  huntsman  blew  his  horn,  and  a 
small,  wedge-shaped  ripple  trailed,  very  slowly  across 
the  next  pool.  The  otter  had  somehow  stolen  past 
the  watchers'  legs  and  reached  deep  water,  but  its  slow- 
ness told  that  its  strength  had  gone.  The  dogs  took 
the  water  with  a  splash,  and  Grace  turned  her  head. 
She  felt  pitiful  and  did  not  want  to  see  the  end.  The 
animal  had  made  a  gallant  fight,  and  she  shrank  from 
the  butchery. 

The  clatter  of  heavy  boots  on  stones  suddenly 
stopped;  there  was  a  curious  pause,  and  Grace  looked 
up  as  somebody  shouted :  "'  Gone  to  holt !  Ca'  off 
your  hounds.     Wheer's  t'  terrier?" 

The  hunt  swept  up  the  bank,  smashed  through  a 
hedge,  and  spread  along  the  margin  of  the  neighbor- 
ing pool.  A  few  big  alders  grew  beside  its  edge,  send- 
ing down  their  roots  into  deep  water ;  but  for  the  most 
part  the  bank  was  supported  by  timbers  driven  into  the 
soil,  and  freshly  laid  with  neatly-bedded  turf.  Grace 
knew  this  had  been  done  to  protect  the  meadow,  because 
the  stream  is  thrown  against  the  concave  side  when 
a  pool  lies  in  a  bend. 

As  she  stopped  at  the  broken  hedge  a  man  ran 
past  carrying  a  small  wet  terrier,  and  two  or  three  more 
came  up  with  spades.  The  otter  could  not  escape  now, 
since  the  hounds  would  watch  the  underwater  entrance 
to  the  cave  among  the  alder  roots,  while  the  terrier 
would  crawl  down  from  the  other  side.     If  a  hole 


THE  OTTER  HOUNDS  19 

could  not  be  found,  the  men  would  dig.  They  were 
interrupted  soon  after  they  began,  for  somebody  said, 
"  Put  down  your  spade,  Tom.     Hold  the  terrier." 

Grace  studied  the  man  who  had  interfered.  He 
was  young  and  on  the  whole  attractive.  His  face  was 
honest  and  sunburned;  he  carried  himself  well,  and 
was  dressed  rather  neatly  in  knickerbockers  and  shoot- 
ing jacket.  She  knew  Christopher  Askew  was  the  son 
of  a  neighboring  farmer,  who  owned  his  land.  Then, 
as  the  men  stopped  digging,  Thorn  pushed  past. 

"  What's  this?  "  he  asked  haughtily.  "  Why  have 
you  meddled  ?  " 

Askew  looked  hard  at  him,  but  answered  in  a  quiet 
voice,  "  It  cost  us  some  trouble  to  mend  the  bank,  and 
if  you  dig  out  the  otter  the  stream  will  soon  make  an 
ugly  gap.'" 

"Then  it's  a  matter  of  the  cost!"  said  Thorn. 
"How  much?'" 

"  Not  altogether,"  Askew  replied,  coloring.  "  It's 
a  matter  of  the  damage  the  next  flood  may  do.  We 
had  an  awkward  job  to  strengthen  the  bank  and  I'm 
not  going  to  have  it  cut.'" 

"  Noo,  Kit,  dinna  spoil  sport,"  the  old  huntsman 
urged.  "  It's  none  a  trick  for  a  canny  lad  to  cheat 
the  hounds." 

"  Put  terrier  in  an'  niver  mind  him ! "  shouted 
another,  and  there  were  cries  of  approval. 

"  Stop  digging,  Tom,"  Askew  said  with  quiet  firm- 
ness.    "  Pick  up  the  dog." 

"  We  are  wasting  time,"  Thorn  remarked.  "  I  don't 
like  bargaining;  you  had  better  state  your  price." 

Grace,  looking  on  across  the  broken  hedge,  sym- 
pathized with  the  farmer.  For  one  thing,  she  wanted 
the  otter  to  escape;  besides,  she  approved  the  man's 
resolute  quietness.  He  had  pluck,  since  it  was  plain 
that  he  was  taking  an  unpopular  line,  and  he  used  some 
self-control,  because  Thorn's  tone  was  strongly  pro- 


20  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

vocative.  In  fact,  she  thought  Thorn  was  not  at  his 
best ;  he  was  not  entitled  to  suggest  that  the  other  was 
trying  to  extort  as  much  money  as  he  could. 

"  No  more  do  I  like  bargaining,"  Askew  replied. 
"  There  will  be  no  digging  here.  You  have  smashed 
the  hedge,  and  that's  enough.     Call  off  your  dogs." 

"  So  you  mean  to  spoil  sport,  even  if  the  damage 
costs  you  nothing?  I  know  your  kind;  it's  getting 
common." 

*'  Oh,  no,"  said  Askew.  "  I  won't  have  the  bank 
cut  down,  but  that  is  all.  If  you  like,  you  can  look 
for  another  otter  on  our  part  of  the  stream." 

Thorn  gave  him  a  seardiing  glance,  and  then,  see- 
ing he  was  resolute,  shrugged  contemptuously.  The 
huntsman  blew  his  horn,  the  dogs  were  drawn  off, 
and  Gerald  followed  the  others  across  the  field.  Grace, 
however,  sat  down  on  a  fallen  tree  to  rest  her  foot 
and  for  a  minute  or  two  thought  herself  alone.  Then 
she  rose  as  Askew  came  through  the  gap  in  the  hedge. 
He  began  to  pull  about  the  broken  rails  and  thorns, 
but  saw  her  when  he  looked  up. 

"  They  have  left  you  behind,  Miss  Osborn,"  he  re- 
marked with  a  smile. 

"  I  think  I  had  enough ;  besides,  I  hurt  my  foot" 

"Badly?" 

"  No,"  said  Grace.  "  I  have  only  begun  to  feel  it 
hurt,  but  I  wish  it  wasn't  quite  so  far  to  the  bridge." 

Askew  looked  at  the  water,  measuring  its  height. 
"  The  stepping  stones  are  not  far  off.  One  or  two 
may  be  covered,  but  perhaps  I  could  help  you  across 
and  it  would  save  you  a  mile." 

Grace  went  on  with  him  and  they  presently  stopped 
beneath  the  alder  branches  by  a  sparkling  shallow. 
Tall  brush  grew  up  the  shady  bank  and  briars  trailed 
in  the  stream.  A  row  of  flat-topped  stones  ran  across, 
but  there  were  gaps  where  the  current  foamed  over 
some  that  were  lower  than  the  rest.     Grace's   foot 


THE  OTTER  HOUNDS  21 

was  getting  worse,  and  sitting  down  on  a  slab  of  the 
slate  stile,  she  glanced  at  her  companion. 

"  I  imagine  it  needed  some  pluck  to  stop  the  hunt," 
she  said.  "  For  one  thing,  you  were  alone ;  nobody 
agreed  with  you." 

Askew  smiled.  "  Opposition  sometimes  makes  one 
obstinate.     But  do  you  think  it's  hard  to  stand  alone?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Grace,  impulsively.  "  I  know  it's'hard. 
Yet,  of  course,  if  you  feel  you  are  taking  the  proper 
line,  you  oughtn't  to  be  daunted  by  what  others  think." 

She  stopped,  remembering  that  the  man  was  a 
stranger ;  and  then  resumed  in  a  different  tone,  "  But 
why  did  you  really  stop  the  hunt?  Are  you  one  of 
the  people  who  don't  believe  in  sport?  " 

"  No,"  said  Askew  good  humoredly.  "  It's  curious 
that  Mr.  Thorn  hinted  something  like  that.  Anyhow, 
I'm  not  a  champion  of  the  otter's  right  to  destroy  use- 
ful fish.     I  think  they  ought  to  be  shot." 

"Oh!"  said  Grace  with  a  touch  of  indignation; 
"  you  would  shoot  an  otter  ?  Well,  I  suppose  they 
must  be  killed ;  but  to  use  a  gun !  " 

"  It's  better  for  the  otter.  Which  do  you  imagine 
it  would  choose  —  a  mercifully  sudden  end,  or  two 
or  three  hours  of  agony,  with  men  and  dogs  close  be- 
hind, until  the  half -drowned,  exhausted  animal  is  torn 
to  pieces  or  mangled  by  the  poles?  " 

"  I  suppose  one  must  answer  as  you  expect." 

"  Yotfre  honest,"  Askew  remarked.  "  I  imagine 
it  cost  you  something  to  agree!  " 

"  It  did,"  Grace  admitted.  "  After  all,  you  know 
our  traditions,  and  many  people,  not  cruel  people,  like 
the  sport." 

"  That  is  so ;  but  let's  take  the  hunt  to-day,  for  an 
example.  There  were  three  or  four  men  without  an 
occupation,  and  no  doubt  they  find  following  the 
hounds  healthy  exercise.  The  others  had  left  work 
that  ought  to  be  done;  in  fact,  if  you  think,  you'll 


22  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

own  that  some  were  men  we  have  not  much  use  for 
in  the  dale." 

"  Yes,"  said  Grace,  with  some  reluctance;  "  I  know 
the  men  you  mean.  All  the  same,  it  is  really  not  our 
business  to  decide  if  they  ought  to  work  or  hunt." 

Askew  looked  amused  and  she  liked  his  twinkle. 
He  was  obviously  intelligent,  and  on  the  whole  she 
approved  his  unconventional  point  of  view.  Conven- 
tional insincerities  were  the  rule  at  Tarnside.  Besides, 
although  it  was  possible  she  ought  not  to  talk  to  the 
man  with  such  freedom,  her  foot  hurt  and  the  stile 
made  a  comfortable  seat.  She  liked  to  watch  the 
shadows  quiver  on  the  stream  and  hear  the  current 
brawl  among  the  stones.  This  was  an  excuse  for 
stopping,  since  she  would  not  acknowledge  that  the 
young  farmer's  socie*:y  had  some  charm. 

After  a  moment  or  two  he  resumed :  "  It  is  not 
my  business,  anyhow,  and  I  don't  want  to  arg^e  if 
otter-hunting  is  a  proper  sport;  it's  an  advantage,  so 
to  speak,  to  stick  to  the  point.  All  I  objected  to  was 
the  hunt's  breaking  down  the  mended  bank.  There 
are  not  many  good  meadows  at  the  dale-head,  and 
grass  land  is  too  valuable  to  be  destroyed.  Don't  you 
think  this  justifies  my  opposition?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  does,"  Grace  agreed,  and  then  de- 
cided that  she  had  talked  to  him  enough.  "  Well. 
I  must  go  on,"  she  added  with  a  doubtful  glance  at  the 
stream.  "  But  it  doesn't  look  as  if  one  could  get 
across." 

"  You  can  try,"  Askew  replied,  and  jumping  down 
stood  in  the  water,  holding  out  his  hand.  "  Come  on; 
there's  not  much  risk  of  a  slip." 

Since  it  was  too  late  to  refuse,  Grace  took  his  hand 
and  he  waded  across,  steadying  her,  while  the  cur- 
rent rippled  round  his  legs.  Some  of  the  stones  were 
covered,  but  with  his  support  she  sprang  across  the  gaps 
and  the  effort  did  not  hurt  her  foot  as  much  as  she  had 


THE  OTTER  HOUNDS  23 

thought.  He  was  not  awkward.  She  liked  his  firm 
grasp,  and  his  care  that  she  did  not  fall;  particularly 
since  she  saw  he  was  satisfied  to  give  her  the  help  she 
needed  and  knew  when  to  stop.  After  she  got  across 
she  thanked  him  and  let  him  go. 

When  she  crossed  the  field  Askew  went  home  in  a 
thoughtful  mood,  though  he  was  conscious  of  a  pleas- 
ant thrill.  He  had  felt  the  girl's  charm  strongly  as 
he  stood  near  her  at  the  stile,  and  now  tried  to  re- 
capture the  scene;  the  dark  alder  branches  moving 
overhead,  the  sparkle  of  the  water,  and  the  light  and 
shadow  that  touched  his  companion.  Her  face  was 
attractive;  although  he  was  not  a  judge  of  female 
beauty,  he  knew  its  molding  was  good.  Mouth,  nose, 
and  chin  were  finely  but  firmly  lined;  her  color  was 
delicate  pink  and  white,  and  she  had  rather  grave  blue 
eyes.  Her  figure  was  marked  by  a  touch  of  patrician 
grace.  Askew  smiled  as  he  admitted  that  patrician  was 
a  word  he  disliked,  but  he  could  not  think  of  another 
that  quite  expressed  what  he  meant.  Anyhow  the 
girl's  charm  was  strong;  she  was  plucky  and  frank, 
perhaps  because  she  knew  her  value  and  need  not  to 
pretend  to  dignity.     In  a  sense,  this  was  patrician,  too. 

All  the  same.  Askew,  though  young  and  romantic, 
M^as  not  a  fool.  He  had  had  a  good  education  and 
had  then  spent  two  years  at  an  agricultural  college ;  but 
he  was  a  farmer's  son  and  he  knew  where  he  stood, 
from  the  Osborns'  point  of  view.  He  had  been  of 
help,  but  this  was  no  reason  Miss  Osborn  should  recog- 
nze  him  when  they  next  met ;  yet  he  somehow  thought 
she  would.  In  the  meantime,  it  was  rash  to  think 
about  her  much,  although  his  thoughts  returned  to  the 
stile  beneath  the  alders  where  he  had  watched  the  sun 
and  shadow  play  about  her  face. 


CHAPTER  III 

A    COUNCIL   OF   DEFENCE 

THE  sun  had  sunk  behind  the  moors  when  Peter 
Askew  sat  by  an  open  window  in  his  big,  slate- 
flagged  kitchen  at  Ashness.  All  was  quiet  outside, 
except  for  the  hoarse  turmoil  of  the  force  and  a  dis- 
tant bleating  of  sheep.  In  front,  across  a  stony  pas- 
ture, the  fellside  ran  up  abruptly;  its  summit,  edged 
with  purple  heath,  cut  against  a  belt  of  yellow  sky. 
The  long,  green  slope  was  broken  by  rocky  scars  and 
dotted  by  small  Herdwick  sheep  that  looked  like  scat- 
tered stones  until  they  moved. 

The  kitchen  was  shadowy,  because  the  house  was 
old  and  built  with  low,  mullioned  windows  to  keep 
out  snow  and  storm,  and  a  clump  of  stunted  ash  trees 
grew  outside  the  courtyard  wall.  A  fire  of  roots  and 
peat,  however,  burned  in  the  deep  hearth,  and  now  and 
then  a  flickering  glow  touched  old  copper  and  dark 
oak  with  red  reflections.  Collectors  had  sometimes  of- 
fered to  buy  the  tall  clock  and  ponderous  meal  chest, 
but  Askew  would  not  sell.  The  most  part  of  his 
furniture  had  been  brought  to  Ashness  by  his  great- 
grandfather. 

Peter's  face  was  brown  and  deeply  lined,  and  his 
shoulders  were  bent,  for  he  had  led  a  life  of  steady 
toil.  This  was  rather  from  choice  than  stern  neces- 
sity, because  he  owned  the  farm  and  had  money  enough 
to  cultivate  it  well.  As  a  rule,  he  was  reserved  and 
thoughtful,  but  his  neighbors  trusted  him.  They  knew 
he  was  clever,  although  he  used  their  homely  dialect 
and  lived  as  frugally  as  themselves.     In  the  dale,  one 

24 


A  COUNCIL  OF  DEFENCE  25 

worked  hard  and  spent  no  more  than  one  need.  Yet 
Peter  had  broken  the  latter  rule  when  he  resolved  to 
give  his  son  a  wider  outlook  than  he  had  had. 

Kit  had  gone  from  the  lonely  farm  to  a  good  school 
where  he  had  beaten,  by  brains  and  resolution,  the 
sons  of  professional  and  business  men.  His  teachers 
said  he  had  talent,  and  although  Peter  was  often  lonely 
since  his  wife  died,  he  meant  to  give  the  lad  his  chance. 
Somewhat  to  his  relief,  Kit  decided  to  return  to  the 
soil,  and  Peter  sent  him  to  an  agricultural  college. 
Since  Kit  meant  to  farm  he  should  be  armed  by  such 
advantages  as  modern  science  could  give.  It  was  ob- 
vious that  he  would  need  them  all  in  the  struggle  against 
low  prices  and  the  inclement  weather  that  vexed  the 
dale.  Now  he  had  come  home,  in  a  sense  not  much 
changed,  and  Peter  was  satisfied.  Kit  and  he  seldom 
jarred,  and  the  dales  folk,  who  did  not  know  how  like 
they  were  under  the  surface,  sometimes  thought  it 
strange. 

Four  or  five  of  their  neighbors  sat  in  the  kitchen,  for 
the  most  part  smoking  quietly,  but  now  and  then 
grumbling  about  the  recent  heavy  rain.  This  was 
not  what  they  had  come  to  talk  about,  and  Peter 
waited.  He  knew  their  cautious  reserve;  they  were 
obstinate  and  slow  to  move,  and  if  he  tried  to  hurry 
them  might  take  alarm.  By  and  by  one  knocked  out 
his  pipe. 

"  How  are  you  getting  forrad  with  t'  peat-cutting?  " 
he  asked. 

"  We  have  cut  enough  to  last  for  three  or  four 
months." 

"  You'll  need  it  aw.  Coal's  a  terrible  price,"  another 
remarked. 

"  It  will  be  dearer  soon,"  said  Peter.  "  Since  Bell 
has  t'  lease  o'  both  coal  yards,  he  can  charge  what  he 
likes." 

"  A  grasping  man !     Yan  canna  get  feeding  stuff 


26  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

for  stock,  seed,  an'  lime,  unless  yan  pays  his  price. 
Noo  he  has  t'  traction-engine,  kilns,  and  mill,  he'll  own 
aw  t'  dale  before  lang." 

"  It's  very  possible,  unless  you  stop  him,"  Kit  in- 
terposed. 

"  Landlord  ought  to  stop  him,"  one  rejoined. 

Kit  smiled.  "  That's  too  much  to  expect;  it's  your 
business  to  help  yourselves.  Mr.  Osborn  takes  the 
highest  rent  that's  offered,  and  you  missed  your  chance 
when  you  let  Bell  get  Allerby  mill." 

"  Neabody  else  had  t'  money,"  another  grumbled. 

"  Two  or  three  of  us  could  have  clubbed  together 
and  made  a  profit  after  selling  feeding  stuff  at  a  mod- 
erate price." 

The  others  were  silent  for  a  minute  of  two  and 
Kit  let  them  ponder.  He  had  learned  something  about 
the  wastefulness  of  individual  effort,  and  on  his  re- 
turn to  Ashness  had  urged  the  farmers  to  join  in  bid- 
ding for  a  lease  of  the  mill.  They  had  refused,  and 
would  need  careful  handling  now,  for  the  old  coopera- 
tive customs  that  had  ruled  in  the  dale  before  the  rail- 
way came  had  gone. 

"  Poor  folks  willunt  have  much  left  for  groceries 
when  they  have  paid  Bell's  price  for  coal,"  said  one. 
"  Since  he  gets  his  money  for  hauling  in  t'  slate,  it 
costs  him  nowt  to  tak'  a  big  load  back  on  t'  lurry; 
but,  with  Redmire  bank  to  dim',  it's  a  terrible  loss  o' 
time  carting  half  a  ton  up  dale." 

"  You  won't  be  able  to  buy  the  half-ton  unless 
you  deal  with  Bell.  I  think  you'll  find  he  has  a  con- 
tract for  all  the  coal  that  comes  down  the  line." 

They  pondered  this  and  another  remarked,  "  Peat's 
terrible  messy  stuff  and  bad  to  dry  at  back  end  o' 
year." 

"  It  can  be  dried,"  said  an  old  man.  "  I  mind  the 
time  when  iver  a  load  o'  coals  went  past  Allerby. 


A  COUNCIL  OF  DEFENCE  27 

Aw  t'  folk  clubbed  togedder  to  cut  and  haul  t'  peat 
from  Malton.  Browt  it  doon  on  stane-boats  by  the 
oad  green  road.  Howiver,  I  reckon  it  cost  them  sum- 
mat,  counting  their  time." 

Kit  gave  him  a  paper.  "  This  is  what  our  peat 
has  cost  us;  I've  charged  our  labor  and  what  the 
horses  would  have  earned  if  we  had  been  paid  for 
plowing." 

They  studied  the  figures,  passing  the  paper  around, 
and  then  one  said,  "  But  peat  costs  you  nowt.  Malton 
moor  is  yours  and  I  ken  nea  ither  peat  worth  cut- 
ting. May  happen  yan  could  find  some  soft  trash  on 
the  back  moor,  but  I  doot  if  Osborn  would  let  yan 
bring  it  doon." 

"  Osborn  does  what  his  agent  says,  and  it's  weel 
kent  Hayes  is  a  friend  o'  Bell's,"  another  agreed. 

Peter  smiled  and  gave  Kit  a  warning  glance.  He 
suspected  the  agent  had  a  private  understanding  that 
was  not  to  his  employer's  benefit  with  Bell;  but  this 
was  another  matter.  Peter  had  taught  his  son  to  con- 
centrate on  the  business  in  hand. 

*'  Weel,"  he  said,  "  you  can  have  aw  t'  peat  you 
want  and  we  willunt  fratch  if  you  pay  me  nowt. 
There's  acres  o'  good  stuff  on  Malton  moor,  and  the 
value  o'  peat  t'  labor  it  costs  to  cut.  Aw  t'  same,  it 
willunt  pay  to  send  a  man  or  two  noo  and  then.  You 
must  work  in  a  gang;  ivery  man  at  his  proper  job." 

"  It  was  done  like  that  in  oad  days,"  said  one. 

Peter  looked  at  Kit,  who  did  not  speak,  for  both 
knew  when  enough  was  said.  Indeed,  although  he 
was  hardly  conscious  of  it  yet,  Kit  had  something  of 
a  leader's  talent.  For  a  few  minutes  the  others  smoked 
and  thought.  They  were  independent  and  suspicious 
about  new  plans,  but  it  was  obvious  that  the  best  defense 
against  a  monopoly  was  a  combine.  In  fact,  they  be- 
gan to  see  it  was  the  only  defense  they  had.  Then  one 
turned  to  Peter. 


28  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"If  you're  for  stopping  Bell  robbing  us  and  starving 
poor  folk  at  Allerby,  I'm  with  you." 

One  after  another  promised  his  support,  a  plan  was 
agreed  upon,  and  Peter  was  satisfied  when  his  neigh- 
bors went  away.  They  were  patient,  cautious,  and 
hard  to  move;  but  he  Imew  their  obstinacy  when  they 
were  roused.  Now  they  had  started,  they  would  go 
on,  stubbornly  taking  a  road  that  was  new  to  them. 
Bell,  of  course,  would  make  a  cunning  fight,  but  Peter 
doubted  if  he  would  win. 

''  I  reckon  your  plan  will  work,"  he  said  to  Kit,  with 
a  nod  of  satisfaction. 

Kit  nodded  and  picking  up  his  hat  and  some  letters 
went  out.  As  he  walked  down  the  dale  the  moon  rose 
above  a  shadowy  fell,  touching  the  opposite  hillside 
with  silver  light  that  reached  the  fields  at  the  bottom 
farther  on.  Tall  pikes  of  wet  hay  threw  dark  shadows 
across  a  meadow,  and  he  heard  the  roar  of  a  swollen 
beck.  There  was  too  much  water  in  the  dale,  but  Kit 
knew  something  might  be  done  to  make  farming  pay 
in  spite  of  the  weather.  Land  that  had  gone  sour 
might  be  recovered  by  draining,  and  a  bank  could  be 
built  where  the  river  now  and  then  washed  away  the 
crops.  Osborn,  however,  was  poor  and  extravagant, 
and  his  agent's  talents  were  rather  applied  to  raising 
rents  than  improving  the  soil. 

Kit  stopped  when  he  got  near  Allerby,  where  the 
dale  widens  and  a  cluster  of  low  white  houses  stands 
among  old  trees.  The  village  glimmered  in  the  moon- 
light and  beyond  it  rolling  country,  dotted  b}*-  dark 
woods,  ran  back  to  the  sea.  A  beck  plunged  down  the 
hillside  with  a  muffled  roar,  and  a  building,  half  in  light 
and  half  in  shadow,  occupied  the  hollow  of  the  ghyll. 
Kit,  leaning  on  the  bridge,  watched  the  glistening  thread 
of  water  that  trkkled  over  the  new  iron  wheel,  and 
noted  the  raw  slate  slabs  that  had  been  recently  built 
into  the  mossy  wall.     A  big  traction  engine,   neatly 


A  COUNCIL  OF  DEFENCE  29 

covered  by  a  tarpaulin,  and  a  trailer  lurry  stood  in 
front  of  the  sliding  door. 

Osborn  had  spent  some  money  here,  for  Allerby 
mill,  with  its  seed  and  chemical  manure  stores,  paid 
him  a  higher  rent  than  the  best  of  his  small  farms. 
It  was  obviously  well  managed  by  the  tenant,  and  Kit 
approved.  Modern  machines  and  methods,  although 
expensive,  were  good  and  were  needed  in  the  dale. 
The  trouble  was,  they  sometimes  gave  the  man  who 
could  use  them  power  to  rob  his  poorer  neighbors. 
Kit  saw  that  concentrated  power  was  often  dangerous, 
and  since  unorganized,  individual  effort  was  no  longer 
profitable,  he  knew  no  cure  but  cooperation. 

Although  young,  he  was  seldom  rash.  Enthusi- 
asm is  not  common  in  the  bleak  northern  dales,  whose 
inhabitants  are,  for  the  most  part,  conservative  and 
slow.  Wind  and  rain  had  hardened  him  and  he  had 
inherited  a  reserved  strength  and  quietness  from  an- 
cestors who  had  braved  the  storms  that  laged  about 
Ashness.  Yet  the  north  is  not  always  stern,  for  now 
and  then  the  gray  sky  breaks,  and  fell  and  dale  shine  in 
dazzling  light  and  melt  with  mystic  beauty  into  pass- 
ing sh?de.  Kit,  like  his  country,  varied  in  his  moods ; 
sometimes  he  forgot  to  be  practical  and  his  caution 
vanished,  leaving  him  romantic  and  imaginative. 

He  went  on,  and  as  he  reached  the  first  of  the  white 
houses  a  girl  came  out  of  a  gate  and  stopped  where 
the  moonlight  fell  across  the  road.  She  had  some 
beauty  and  her  pose  was  graceful. 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  with  rather  exaggerated  sur- 
prise, "it's  Kit!  I  suppose  you'll  take  this  letter? 
I  was  going  to  the  post." 

Kit  did  not  know  much  about  young  women,  but 
hesitated,  because  he  doubted  if  she  wanted  him  to 
post  the  letter. 

"  If  you  like,"  he  said.  "  I  expect  the  causeway 
at  the  water-splash  will  be  wet." 


30  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

She  gave  him  a  curious  smile.  "  Oh,  well ;  here's 
the  letter.  Jim  Nixon  had  to  help  me  across  the 
water  when  I  went  last  night,  and  I  don't  suppose 
you're  afraid  of  wetting  your  feet.  You  are  used 
to  it  at  x\shness." 

"  Yes,"  said  Kit.  "  My  boots  are  stronger  than 
yours." 

"  Canny  lad !  "  she  answered,  with  a  mocking  laugh. 
Kit  felt  embarrassed,  for  he  thought  he  saw  what 
she  meant.     Janet  Bell  was  sornething  of  a  coquette. 

"  I  heard  people  coming  down  the  road  not  long 
since,"  she  resumed.  "  Have  you  had  a  supper  party? 
Tell  your  father  I  think  he's  shabby  because  he  left 
me  out." 

"  It  wasn't  a  supper  party  and  there  were  no  women. 
Three  or  four  neighbors  came  in." 

"  To  grumble  about  the  weather  or  argue  about  the 
sheep?  " 

"  They  did  grumble  about  the  weather,"  Kit  re- 
plied. 

Janet  looked  amused.  "  You're  very  cautious,  my 
lad;  but  you  needn't  take  it  for  granted  I'm  always  on 
father's  side.  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  why  your 
neighbors  came?  " 

"  You  don't  know  altogether." 

The  moonlight  was  clear  enough  to  show  that  Janet 
colored.  "  And  you  think  I  stopped  you  to  find 
out?" 

"  I  don't,"  said  Kit,  rather  awkwardly.  "  Still,  per- 
haps it's  better  that  you  shouldn't  know." 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  with  some  emotion,  "  I  can't  tell  if 
you  mean  to  be  nice  or  not.  It's  the  lazy,  feckless  peo- 
ple who  dislike  father,  because  they're  jealous;  and 
they  try  to  make  things  hard  for  me.  Why  should  I 
suffer  because  he's  cleverer  than  them?  " 

"  You  oughn't  to  suffer.  I  really  don't  think  people 
blame  you." 


A  COUNCIL  OF  DEFENCE  31 

"  They  do  blame  me,"  Janet  insisted.  "  You  doubted 
if  you  could  trust  me  just  now." 

This  was  true  enough  to  embarrass  Kit,  but  he  said, 
"  I  didn't  see  why  I  should  talk  to  you  about  our  busi- 
ness ;  that  was  all.  In  fact,  I  don't  mean  to  talk  about 
it  to  anybody." 

"  Now  you're  nicer.  I  didn't  like  to  feel  you  were 
taking  particular  care  not  to  let  me  know.  Well,  of 
course,  father's  no  friend  of  yours  and  perhaps  he'll 
like  you  worse  by  and  by.  But,  after  all,  does  that 
matter  ?  " 

"  Not  in  a  way,"  said  Kit,  pretending  to  be  dull. 
"  You  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  dispute  and  we 
don't  want  to  quarrel  with  your  father,  although  we 
mean  to  carry  out  our  plans." 

Janet  looked  rather  hard  at  him  and  there  was  some 
color  in  her  face,  but  she  forced  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  well !  Good-night !  I've  stopped  you,  and 
expect  you  want  to  get  home." 

She  went  back  through  the  gate  and  Kit  resumed 
his  walk,  struggling  wnth  an  anno3'ance  he  felt  was 
illogical.  He  knew  something  about  Bell's  household 
and  imagined  that  Janet's  life  was  not  smooth.  He 
was  sorry  for  her,  and  it  was,  of  course,  unjust  to 
blame  her  for  her  father's  deeds.  All  the  same,  the 
favor  she  had  sometimes  shown  him  was  embarrassing. 
He  was  not  a  philanderer,  but  he  was  young  and  she  had 
made  him  feel  that  he  had  played  an  ungallant  part. 
Jane  was  a  flirt,  but,  after  all,  it  would  not  have  cost 
him  much,  so  to  speak,  to  play  up  to  her.  Perhaps 
he  had  acted  like  a  prig.  This  made  him  angry,  al- 
though he  knew  he  had  taken  the  proper  line. 

By  and  by  he  came  to  the  water-splash,  where  a 
beck  crossed  the  road.  Its  channel  was  paved,  so  that 
one  could  drive  across,  and  at  the  side  a  stone  cause- 
way had  been  made  for  foot  passengers.  Sometimes, 
when  the  beck  was  unusually  swollen,  shallow  water 


32  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

covered  the  stones,  and  Kit  saw  the  significance  of 
a  statement  of  Janet's  as  he  noted  the  width  of  the 
submerged  spot.  It  looked  as  if  Jim  Nixon  had  car- 
ried her  across.  Then  his  annoyance  vanished  and 
he  laughed.  Gallant  or  not,  he  was  satisfied  to  carry 
Janet's  letter. 

As  he  went  on  in  the  moonlight  he  began  to  see 
that  there  were  some  grounds  for  his  reluctance  to 
indulge  the  girl.  He  had  thought  about  Miss  Osborn 
often  since  he  helped  her  across  the  stepping  stones. 
He  had  not  hesitated  then,  and  although  the  things  were 
different,  to  dwell  upon  the  incident  was  perhaps  rasher 
than  indulging  Janet.  Miss  Osborn  had,  no  doubt, 
forgotten,  but  he  haH  not.  The  trouble  was,  he  could 
not  forget;  his  imagination  pictured  her  vividly,  sit- 
ting beneath  the  alders  talking  to  him. 

With  something  of  an  effort  Kit  pulled  himself  up. 
He  was  a  small  farmer's  son  and  the  Osborns  were  im- 
portant people.  He  knew  Osborn's  family  pride,  which 
he  thought  his  daughter  had  inherited.  In  Osborn,  it 
was  marked  by  arrogance ;  in  the  girl  by  a  gracious, 
half -stately  calm.  For  all  that,  the  pride  was  there, 
and  Kit,  resolving  that  he  would  not  be  a  fool,  went 
to  the  post  office  and  put  Janet's  letter  in  the  box. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    PEAT    CUTTERS 

OSBORN  was  dissatisfied  and  moody  when,  one  aft- 
ernoon, he  stood,  waiting  for  the  grouse,  behind 
a  bank  of  turf  on  Malton  moor.  To  begin  with,  he 
had  played  cards  until  the  early  morning  with  some  of 
his  guests  and  had  been  unlucky.  Then  he  got  up  with 
a  headache  for  which  he  held  his  wife  account- 
able; Alice  was  getting  horribly  parsimonious, 
and  had  bothered  him  until  he  tried  to  cut  down  his 
wine  merchant's  bill  by  experimenting  with  cheaper 
liquor.  His  headache  was  the  consequence.  The 
whisky  he  had  formerly  kept  never  troubled  him  like 
that. 

Moreover,  it  was  perhaps  a  mistake  to  invite  Jardine, 
although  he  sometimes  gave  one  a  useful  hint  about 
speculations  on  the  Stock  Exchange.  The  fellow  went 
to  bigger  shoots  and  looked  bored  when  Osborn's 
partridges  were  scarce  and  wild ;  besides,  he  had  broken 
rules  in  order  to  get  a  shot  when  they  walked  the  turnip 
fields  in  line.  Osborn  imagined  Jardine  would  not 
have  done  so  had  he  been  a  guest  at  one  of  the  houses 
he  boasted  about  visiting. 

As  they  climbed  Malton  Head  another  of  the  party 
had  broken  Dowthwaite's  drystone  wall  and  the  farmer 
had  said  more  about  the  accident  than  the  damage 
justified.  In  fact,  Dowthwaite  was  rather  aggressive, 
and  now  Osborn  came  to  think  of  it,  one  or  two  others 
had  recently  grumbled  about  things  they  had  hitherto 
borne  without  complaint. 

In  the  meantime,  Osborn  and  Thorn,  who  shared 


34  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

his  butt,  looked  about  while  they  waited  for  the  beaters. 
The  row  of  turf  banks,  regularly  spaced,  ran  back  to 
the  Force  Crags  at  the  head  of  the  dale.  The  red 
bloom  of  the  ling  was  fading  from  the  moor,  which 
had  begun  to  get  brown.  Sunshine  and  shadow  swept 
across  it,  and  the  blue  sky  was  dotted  by  flying,  white- 
edged  clouds.  A  keen  wind  swept  the  high  tableland, 
and  the  grouse,  flying  before  it,  would  come  over  the 
butts  very  fast. 

In  the  distance,  one  could  distinguish  a  row  of 
figures  that  were  presently  lost  in  a  hollow  and  got 
larger  when  they  reappeared.  They  were  beaters, 
driving  the  grouse,  and  by  and  by  O shorn,  picking  up 
his  glasses,  saw  clusters  of  small  dark  objects  that 
skimmed  and  then  dropped  into  the  heath.  It  was 
satisfactory  to  note  that  they  were  numerous.  Al- 
though the  birds  were  rather  wild,  he  could  now^  give 
his  friends  some  sport.  After  a  time,  however,  the 
clusters  of  dark  dots  were  seen  first  to  scatter  and  then 
vanish.  Osborn  frowned  as  he  gave  Thorn  the 
glasses. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  Looks  as  if  the  birds  had 
broken  back." 

"  Some  have  broken  back,"  said  Thorn.  "  If 
they've  flown  over  the  beaters,  we  have  lost  them  for 
the  afternoon."  He  paused  and  resumed :  "  I  think 
the  first  lot  are  dropping.     No;  they're  coming  on." 

Picking  up  his  gun,  he  watched  the  advancing  grouse. 
They  flew  low  but  \'ery  fast,  making  a  few  strokes  at 
intervals  and  then  sailing  on  stretched  wings  down  the 
wind.  In  a  few  moments  they  were  large  and  dis- 
tinct, but  there  were  not  enough  to  cross  more  than  the 
first  two  butts.  When  they  were  fifty  yards  off  Thorn 
threw  up  his  gun  and  two  pale  flashes  leaped  out. 
Osborn  was  slower  and  swung  his  barrel.  The  sharp 
reports  were  echoed  from  the  next  butt  and  a  thin 
streak  of  smoke  that  looked  gray  in  the  sunshine  drifted 


THE  PEAT  CUTTERS  35 

across  the  bank  of  turf.  Two  brown  objects,  spinning 
round,  struck  the  heath  and  a  few  Hght  feathers  fol- 
lowed. The  grouse  that  had  escaped  went  on  and 
got  small  again. 

"  Missed  with  my  right,"  said  Osborn.  "  Had  to 
shoot  on  the  swing.  Don't  know  about  the  other  bar- 
rel." 

Thorn  did  know,  but  used  some  tact.  "  I  may  have 
been  a  trifle  slow;  my  last  bird  was  going  very  fast." 

"  I  expect  you  saw  whose  bird  it  was,"  Osborn  said 
to  the  lad  who  took  their  guns. 

"  Yes,  sir;  Mr.  Thorn's,  sir." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Osborn,  forcing  a  smile  as  he  turned 
to  Thorn,  "  you  have  youth  upon  your  side.  Anyhow, 
I  don't  imagine  the  others  have  done  much  better,  and 
it  looks  as  if  we  might  as  well  go  home.  When  the 
birds  broke  back  we  lost  the  best  chance  we'll  get. 
I  wonder  what  spoiled  the  drive?  " 

"  Something  on  the  old  green  road,  I  think.  The 
grouse  turned  as  they  crossed  the  hollow." 

A  short  distance  off  there  was  a  fold  in  the  moor, 
and  while  Osborn  wondered  whether  he  would  walk  to 
the  top  a  man  came  over  the  brow,  leading  two  horses 
that  hauled  a  clumsy  sledge.  Another  team  followed 
and  presently  four  advanced  across  the  heath. 

"  Now  you  know  what  spoiled  the  drive,"  Thorn 
remarked  with  some  dryness.  "  You  can't  expect  a 
good  shoot  on  the  day  your  tenants  move  their  peat." 

Osborn,  who  was  very  angry,  picked  up  the  glasses. 
"  The  first  two  are  not  my  tenants.  They're  the  As- 
kews,  and  the  boundary  of  their  sheepwalk  runs  on 
this  side  of  the  green  road." 

"  Then  I  suppose  there's  nothing  to  be  said !  " 

In  the  meantime,  Osborn's  friends  had  left  the  other 
butts  and  come  up,  with  Jardine  in  front.  He  was  a 
fat,  red-faced  man,  and  as  he  got  nearer  remarked  to 
his  companions  :     "  I  call  it  wretched  bad  management ! 


36  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Somebody  ought  to  have  turned  the  fellows  off  the 
moor." 

Osborn  heard  and  glanced  at  Thorn  as  he  left  the 
butt.  "There  is  something  to  be  said;  I'm  going  to 
relieve  my  mind." 

He  went  off  and  signaled  the  farmers  to  stop.  They 
waited,  standing  quietly  by  their  horses.  On  the  open 
moor,  their  powerful  figures  had  a  touch  of  grace, 
and  their  clothes,  faded  by  sun  and  rain,  harmonized 
with  the  color  of  the  heath.  Peter  Askew's  brown  face 
was  inscrutable  when  he  fixed  his  steady  eyes  on  Os- 
born. 

"  You  turned  back  the  grouse  and  spoiled  the  beat. 
Do  you  call  that  spoiting?  "  Osborn  asked. 

"I'm  sorry,"  Peter  replied.  "If  I'd  kenned  you 
were  shooting,  mayhappen  we  could  have  put  off  load- 
ing the  peat." 

**  You  knew  we  were  shooting  when  you  saw  the 
beaters." 

"  Aw,  yis,"  said  Peter.  "  It  was  over  late  then.  I 
wadn't  willingly  spoil  any  man's  sport,  but  we  had 
browt  up  eight  horses  and  had  to  get  to  work." 

"  You  have  plenty  of  work  at  Ashness." 

"It's  verra  true;  but  the  weather's  our  master  and 
we  canna  awtogether  do  what  we  like.  The  peat's  mair 
important  than  a  few  brace  of  grouse." 

"  Important  to  you !  "  Osborn  rejoined.  "  But  what 
about  me  and  my  friends  ?  One  has  come  from  Lon- 
don for  a  few  days'  sport." 

"  Then  I'm  sorry  he  has  lost  the  afternoon,"  Kit  in- 
terposed quietly.  "  But  you  well  know  the  wages  la- 
borers get  in  the  dale,  and  there  are  old  folks  and  some 
sick  at  Allerby  who  need  a  good  fire.  The  winter's 
hard  and  some  of  the  cottages  are  very  damp." 

"  The  farmers  pay  the  wages." 

"  None  of  them  make  much  money.  They  pay  what 
their  rent  allows." 


THE  PEAT  CUTTERS  37 

"  I  don't  force  up  the  rents.  They're  fixed  by  the 
terms  new  tenants  are  willing  to  offer  when  a  lease  runs 
out." 

"  That  is  so,"  Kit  agreed.  "  I  don't  know  that  my 
neighbors  grumble  much  because  the  rule  works  on 
your  side.  But  peat  is  plentiful  and  we  don't  see  why 
it  can't  be  used  when  coal  is  dear." 

'*  I  imagine  you  can  see  an  opportunity  of  selling 
the  right  to  cut  it,"  Osborn  sneered. 

"  We  are  willing  to  sell  at  the  buyers'  price.  Any- 
body who  can't  pay  may  have  the  peat  for  nothing. 
None  of  the  day  laborers  has  paid  us  yet  and  none 
shall  be  forced  to  pay." 

Osborn  did  not  know  whether  he  could  believe  this 
statement  or  not,  but  he  said  ironically,  "  Then  it  looks 
as  if  you  were  generous !  However,  you  are  not  a 
friend  of  my  agent's  and  no  doubt  see  a  chance  of 
making  trouble.  When  you  meddle  with  my  tenants 
you  play  a  risky  game,  and  they  may  find  they  were 
foolish  to  join  you." 

One  of  the  farmers  who  had  stood  quietly  by  Peter 
Askew  looked  up  with  a  slow  smile;  another's  weather- 
beaten  face  got  a  little  harder.  They  were  seldom 
noisily  quarrelsome,  but  they  were  stubborn  and  re- 
membered an  injury  long.  Peter,  however,  inter- 
posed : 

"  We  won't  fratch ;  there's  not  much  in  arguing. 
You  can  beat  m.oor  t'ither  side  o'  green  road.  Good 
day  to  you  !  " 

He  spoke  to  the  horses  and  the  sledge  lurched  for- 
ward with  its  chocolate-colored  load.  The  other 
teams  strained  at  the  chains ;  there  was  a  beat  of  hoofs, 
and  the  row  of  sledges  moved  noisily  away.  Osborn 
waited  for  a  few  moments,  but  his  face  was  very  red 
when  he  went  back  to  the  butts.  The  farmer's  re- 
fusal to  dispute  with  him  was  galling.  For  all  that, 
he  must  try  to  find  his  friends  some  sport,  and  after 


38  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

consulting  with  his  gamekeeper  sent  the  beaters  on 
across  the  moor. 

The  new  drive  was  not  successful,  and  in  the  evening 
the  party  came  down  the  hill  with  a  very  poor  bag. 
When  they  reached  the  Redmire  wood  Osborn  stopped 
beside  a  broken  hedge.  Red  beeches  shone  among  the 
yellow  birches  and  dark  firs,  the  sun  was  low  and  its 
slanting  rays  touched  the  higher  branches,  but  the  gaps 
between  the  trunks  were  filled  with  shadow.  A  few 
bent  figures  moved  in  the  gloom,  and  Osborn  frowned 
when  three  or  four  children  came  down  a  drive,  drag- 
ging a  heavy  fallen  bough.  An  elderly  woman  with 
a  sack  upon  her  back  followed  them  slowly,  and  it 
was  obvious  that  cottagers  from  AUerby  were  gather- 
ing fuel. 

"  Confound  them !  This  is  too  much !  "  he  ex- 
claimed and  beckoned  his  gamekeeper.  "If  that  is 
Mrs.  Forsyth,  tell  her  to  come  up." 

The  woman  advanced  and  rested  her  sack  upon  the 
hedge.  Her  wrinkled  face  was  wet  with  sweat,  but 
she  did  not  look  alarmed. 

"  Eh !  "  she  said,  "  sticks  is  heavy  and  Fm  none  so 
young  as  I  was." 

"  You  have  no  business  in  the  wood,"  said  Osborn 
sternly. 

"  There's  nea  place  else  where  we  can  pick  up 
sticks." 

"  That  is  your  affair.  You  know  you're  not  al- 
lowed to  gather  wood  in  my  plantations." 

"  We  canna  gan  withoot  some  kindling;  when  you 
canna  keep  it  dry,  peat  is  ill  to  light.  Terrible  messy 
stuff,  too,  and  mak's  nea  end  o'  dirt." 

The  children  came  up  and  when  they  stood,  open- 
mouthed,  gazing  at  the  party  one  of  the  sportsmen 
laughed. 

"  Then  burn  coal  and  the  dirt  won't  bother  you," 
Osborn  rejoined. 


THE  PEAT  CUTTERS  39 

"  Hoo  can  we  burn  coal?"  the  woman  asked. 
"  Noo  Tom  Bell  has  lease  o'  baith  yards,  he's  putten 
up  t'  price,  and  when  you've  paid  what  he's  asking 
there's  nowt  left  for  meal.  I  canna  work  for  Mrs. 
Osborn  as  I  used,  and  with  oad  Jim  yearning  nobbut 
fifteen  shilling  — " 

She  paused  for  breath  and  wiped  her  hot  face,  and 
Osborn  signed  to  the  keeper.  The  woman  was  mak- 
ing him  ridiculous. 

"  Turn  them  all  out,  Holliday,"  he  said  and  went  on 
with  his  friends. 

"  The  old  lady's  talkative,"  one  remarked.  "  Quite 
frank,  but  not  at  all  angry;  I  thought  her  line  was 
rather  dignified.  I've  met  country  folks  who'd  have 
been  servilely  apologetic,  and  some  who  would  have 
called  you  ugly  names." 

"  These  people  are  never  apologetic,"  Osborn  said 
dryly.  "  As  a  rule,  they're  not  truculent,  but  they're 
devilish  obstinate." 

"  I  think  I  see.  After  all,  it's  possible  to  stick  to 
your  point  without  abusing  your  antagonist.  I  sup- 
pose you  turned  them  out  because  of  the  pheasants?  " 

"Yes;  good  cover's  scarce,  and  if  the  birds  are 
disturbed  they  move  down  to  Rafton  Woods.  For  a 
sporting  neighbor,  Hayton  hardly  plays  the  game. 
To  put  down  corn  is,  of  course,  allowable,  but  he  uses 
damaged  raisins ! " 

"Then  you  don't  feed?" 

"  Very  little,"  Osborn  replied.  "  Corn's  too  dear. 
The  Tarnside  pheasants  live  on  the  country." 

"  I  expect  that  really  means  they  live  on  the  farm- 
ers!" 

Osborn  frowned.  It  was  Jardine's  habit  to  make 
stupid  remarks  like  that;  Osborn  wondered  whether 
the  fellow  thought  them  smart. 

"  The  farmers  knew  my  rules  when  they  signed  the 
lease,"  he  said.     "  Anyhow,  pheasants  do  much  less 


40  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

damage  than  ground  game,  and  I  don't  think  my  ten- 
ants have  left  a  hare  in  the  dale." 

Jardine  began  to  talk  about  something  else,  and  no 
more  was  said  about  Osborn's  grievances  until  the 
party  met  on  the  new  terrace  in  the  twilight.  The 
tarn  glimmered  with  faint  reflections  from  the  west, 
but  thin  mist  drifted  across  the  pastures,  and  the  hills 
rose,  vague  and  black,  against  the  sky,  in  which  a  half 
moon  shone.  Osborn,  sitting  at  the  top  of  the  shallow 
steps  that  went  down  to  the  lawn,  grumbled  to  his 
wife  about  the  day's  shooting. 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  an  exacting  landlord,"  he  re- 
marked, "  In  fact,  since  I  ask  for  nothing  but  a  little 
give-and-take,  it's  annoying  when  people  spoil  my 
sport.  Dowthwaite  made  himself  unpleasant  about 
his  broken  wall,  the  Askews  turned  the  grouse  back, 
and  then  I  found  the  Allerby  cottage  children  ransack- 
ing Redmire  Wood  when  the  pheasants  were  going  to 
roost." 

Grace,  who  stood  close  by  with  Thorn,  indicated  the 
smooth  gravel  and  the  low,  wide-topped  wall  on  which 
red  geraniums  grew. 

"  This,"  she  said,  *'  is  a  great  improvement  on  the 
old  grass  bank.  The  wide  steps  and  broad  slate  coping 
have  an  artistic  effect.  However,  you  can't  often  get 
the  things  you   like  without  paying." 

"  Very  true,  but  rather  trite,"  Osborn  agreed.  "  I 
don't  see  how  it  applies." 

"  Well,  I'm  really  sympathetic  about  your  spoiled 
day,  but  it  looks  as  if  all  your  disappointments  sprang 
from  the  same  cause." 

"  Ah!  "  said  Osborn,  sharply;  "  I  suppose  you  mean 
the  coal  yards'  lease  ?  " 

"I  think  I  mean  Bell's  greediness.  If  he  didn't 
charge  so  much  for  his  coal.  Askew  would  not  have 
cut  the  peat,  and  the  children  would  not  have  been  sent 
to  gather  wood.     Then  Dowthwaite  might  not  have 


THE  PEAT  CUTTERS  41 

grumbled  about  his  wall ;  he  feels  the  farmers  have  not 
been  treated  justly,  and  I  imagine  he  blames  you." 

Osborn  knitted  his  brows.  "  Then  it's  an  example 
of  the  fellow's  wrong-headed  attitude !  He  and  one  or 
two  others  are  treated  better  than  they  deserve,  and 
would  not  be  satisfied  with  anything  I  did.  If  you 
had  to  manage  the  estate,  pay  extortionate  taxes,  and 
make  the  unnecessary  repairs  the  farmers  demand,  it 
would  be  interesting  to  see  the  line  you  would  take." 

"  Perhaps  the  right  line  isn't  easy,"  Grace  admitted. 
"  Still,  if  I  wanted  a  guide,  there's  the  motto  of  our 
county  town:  '  Be  just  and  fear  not.'  " 

Osborn  looked  at  her  with  indignant  surprise,  and 
then  shrugged  scornfully.     Thorn  smiled. 

"  It's  an  excellent  motto ;  but  they  chose  it  some  time 
since.     One  imagines  it's  out  of  date  now." 

Grace  colored  and  moved  away,  feeling  embarrassed. 
She  had  made  herself  ridiculous,  and  perhaps  senti- 
ment such  as  she  had  indulged  was  cheap ;  but  it  hurt 
to  feel  that  she,  so  to  speak,  stood  alone.  Although  she 
had,  no  doubt,  been  imprudent,  she  had  said  what  she 
felt,  and  Thorn  had  smiled.  She  turned  to  him  angrily 
when  he  followed  her  along  the  terrace. 

"  I  daresay  I  am  a  raw  sentimentalist,  but  I'm  glad 
I'm  not  up  to  date,"  she  said.  "  I  hate  your  modern 
smartness!  " 

Thorn,  noting  the  hardness  of  her  voice,  stopped 
with  an  apologetic  gesture  and  let  her  go. 


CHAPTER  V 
railton's  tally 

WINTER  had  begun,  and  although  the  briars 
shone  red  along  the  hedgerows  and  the  stunted 
oaks  had  not  lost  all  their  leaves,  bitter  sleet  blew 
across  the  dale  when  Grace  went  up  the  muddy  lonning 
to  Mireside  farm.  Railtou's  daughter  had  for  a  time 
helped  the  housekeeper  at  Tarnside,  and  Grace,  hear- 
ing that  the  farmer  had  been  ill,  was  going  to  ask  about 
him.  It  was  nearly  dark  when  she  entered  the  big 
kitchen.  The  lamp  had  not  been  lighted,  but  a  peat  fire 
burned  in  the  wide  grate,  where  irons  for  cooking  pots 
hung  above  the  blaze.  A  bright  glow  leaped  up  and 
spread  about  the  kitchen,  touching  the  people  in  the 
room,  and  then  faded  as  she  shut  the  massive  door. 

Grace  thought  her  arrival  had  embarrassed  the 
others,  because  nobody  said  anything  for  a  moment 
or  two.  Railton  sat  in  an  old  oak  chair  by  the  fire, 
with  a  stick  near  his  hand ;  Tom,  the  shepherd,  occupied 
the  middle  of  the  floor;  and  Kit  Askew  leaned  against 
the  table,  at  which  Mrs.  Railton  and  Lucy  sat.  Grace 
wished  she  could  see  them  better,  but  the  blaze  had 
sunk  and  the  fire  burned  low,  giving  out  an  aromatic 
smell,  and  throwing  dull  reflections  on  the  old  oak  fur- 
niture, copper  kettles,  and  tall  brass  candlesticks.  As 
a  rule,  the  lonely  homesteads  in  the  dales  are  furnished 
well,  with  objects  made  long  since  and  handed  down 
from  father  to  son. 

Then  Mrs.  Railton  began  to  talk,  rather  nervously, 
and  Grace  turned  to  the  farmer  as  the  light  spread 
about  the  room  again.  He  had  a  thin,  lined  face; 
his   shoulders   were   bent,    and    his   pose   was    slack. 

42 


t) 


IL\ILTON'S  TALLY  43 

Sickness  no  doubt  accounted  for  something,  but  Grace 
imagined  his  attitude  hinted  at  dejection. 

"  How  are  you  to-day?  "  she  asked. 

"  No  varra  weel.  I'm  none  so  young,  and  the  wet 
and  cold  dinna  agree  with  my  oad  bones.  Mayhappen 
ril  be  better  soon,  but  noo  when  I'm  needed  I  canna 
g:et  aboot." 

"  He'll  not  can  rest,"  Mrs.  Railton  interposed.  "  He 
was  oot  in  sleet,  boddering  among  t'  sheep  aw  day." 

"  And  weel  you  ken  I  had  to  gan,"  the  farmer  re- 
joined. 

Mrs.  Railton's  silence  implied  agreement  and  Grace's 
curiosity  was  excited  because  of  something  she  had 
heard  at  home.  Railton's  lease  of  the  sheepwalk  ran 
out  in  a  few  days,  but  he  was  by  local  custom  entitled 
to  its  renewal  after  a  review  of  the  terms.  Moreover, 
it  was  usual  for  the  tenant  to  take  the  sheep  with  the 
farm,  and  leave  them  equal  in  number  and  condition 
when  he  went.  The  landlord  could  then  demand  a 
valuation  and  payment  of  the  difference,  if  the  flocks 
had  fallen  below  the  proper  standard. 

"  Why  are  you  forced  to  go  out  in  this  bitter 
weather?  "  she  asked. 

Railton  hesitated,  and  then  saw  his  daughter's 
meaning  glance.  Lucy  was  clever,  and  he  thought  she 
wanted  him  to  be  frank. 

"  I  had  to  see  how  sheep  were,"  he  answered  dully. 
"  Not  that  it  was  o'  mich  use.  T'  lambs  niver  get  over 
wet  spring  and  t'  ewes  is  poor.  Then  flock  is  weel 
under  tally ;  I've  lost  two  score  Swinset  Herdwicks,  and 
the  mak-up's  next  Thursday." 

"  But  how  did  you  lose  forty  sheep?  "  Grace  asked. 

"  There  was  a  hole  in  fell  dyke  and  Swinset  sheep 
are  thief  sheep,  varra  bad  to  hoad.  I  bowt  ewes  there 
and  t'  lambs  followed  when  thev  wandert  back  to  their 
heaf." 

Grace  pondered.     She  had  noted  some  reserve  in 


2J4  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Railton's  manner  when  he  mentioned  the  broken  dyke 
and  knew  the  flockmasters  were  careful  about  their 
dry  walls.  The  rest  was  plain;  the  heaf  is  the  hill 
pasture  where  a  lamb  is  born,  and  Swinset  was  fifteen 
miles  away.  It  was  a  very  large  sheepwalk  and  much 
time  would  be  needed  to  find  the  sheep  on  the  wide  belt 
of  moor. 

"If  you  know  the  sheep  are  at  Swinset,  they  would 
be  allowed  for  in  the  count,"  she  said. 

"  I  have  my  doubts.  Mr.  Hayes  sent  me  notice  tally 
would  be  taken  on  Thursday  and  he's  a  hard  man." 

Grace  colored.  Although  she  did  not  like  Hayes, 
he  was  Osborn's  agent.  There  was  much  she  wanted 
to  know,  but  she  could  not  ask. 

"  Mr.  Hayes  cannot  do  exactly  as  he  likes;  he  must 
get  my  father's  conseiit,"  she  said.  "  However,  as  I 
am  going  home  by  the  field  path,  I  had  better  start 
before  it's  dark." 

"  There's  a  broken  gate  that's  awkward  to  open.  I 
will  come  with  you  until  you  reach  it,"  Kit  remarked. 

They  went  out  together.  The  sleet  had  stopped,  but 
leaden  clouds  rolled  across  the  hills  that  glimmered 
white  in  the  dusk.  As  they  struck  across  a  wet  field 
Grace  said : 

"  I  suppose  Railton's  flock  is  below  the  proper  stand- 
ard and  the  count  is  short?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  two  or  three  wet  years  have  hit  flock- 
masters  hard  and  Railton  had  to  sell  more  stock  than 
was  prudent,  in  order  to  pay  his  debts." 

"  Then  if  he  can't  pay  the  difference  in  number  and 
value,  the  lease  can  be  broken?  " 

Kit  made  a  sign  of  agreement  and  Grace  asked : 
"  But  do  you  think  Hayes  would  break  the  lease  and 
turn  him  out?  " 

"  It's  possible,"  Kit  answered  cautiously. 

Grace  gave  him  a  sharp  glance.  "  What  do  you 
really  think,  Mr.  Askew?     I  want  to  know." 


RAILTON'S  TALLY  45 

"  Then,  my  notion  is  Hayes  would  like  to  get  Mire- 
side  for  Jim  Richardson." 
"  Richardson  is  his  nephew." 

**  Just  so,"  said  Kit,  with  some  dryness.  "  All  the 
same  he'd  make  a  good  tenant.  His  father  is  rich 
enough  to  start  him  well." 

Grace's  eyes  sparkled,  for  she  saw  where  the  hint 
led,  but  she  hid  her  resentment,  because,  after  all,  she 
had  doubts.  Osborn  needed  money  and  Hayes  was 
cunning. 

"  I  imagine  it  would  hurt  Railton  to  leave." 

"  It  would  hurt  him  much.  He  was  born  at  Mire- 
side  and  his  father  took  the  farm  from  your  grand- 
father, a  very  long  time  since.  Then  he's  an  old  man 
and  has  not  enough  money  to  begin  again  at  another 
place." 

"  Ah,"  said  Grace,  "  it  would  be  very  hard  if  he  had 
to  go!  But  if  he  hasn't  money,  he  couldn't  carry  on, 
even  if  we  renewed  the  lease." 

"  We  have  had  remarkably  bad  weather  for  two 
or  three  years  and  the  cold  rain  killed  the  young  lambs, 
but  a  change  is  due.  A  dry  spring  and  fine  summer 
would  put  the  old  man  straight." 

Grace  was  silent  for  a  few  moments  and  then  looked 
at  Kit  with  some  color  in  her  face. 

"  Thank  you  for  making  the  situation  plain.  You 
were  not  anxious  to  do  so,  were  you?  I  think  you 
don't  trust  us!  " 

"  I  don't  trust  Hayes,"  Kit  said  awkwardly. 

"  But  Hayes  is  our  agent.  We  are  accountable  for 
what  he  does." 

"  In  a  way,  I  suppose  you  are  accountable.  For 
all  that,  when  a  landlord  has  a  capable  agent  it  is  not 
the  rule  for  him  to  meddle.  I  understand  Mr.  Os- 
born leaves  much  to  Hayes." 

Grace  pondered.  Kit's  embarrassment  indicated 
that  he  was  trying  to  save  her  feelings,  but  he  must 


46  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

know,  as  she  knew,  that  a  landlord  was  rightly  judged 
by  his  agent's  deeds.  Although  she  rather  liked  Kit 
Askew,  he  had  humiliated  her. 

"  Well,"  she  said  resolutely,  "  something  must  be 
done.  If  the  strayed  sheep  could  be  found,  it  would 
help." 

"  Yes,"  said  Kit.  "  Tom  and  I  start  for  Swinset 
to-morrow  to  try  to  bring  them  back.  But  if  you'll 
wait  a  moment,  I'll  open  the  gate." 

He  walked  throMgh  the  mud  the  cattle  had  churned 
up,  and,  lifting  the  broken  gate,  pushed  it  back  so 
that  Grace  could  cross  a  drier  spot.  Then,  as  he  stood 
with  his  hands  on  the  ro^^^ten  bars,  she  stopped. 

"  Don't  start  for  Swinset  until  you  hear  from  me," 
she  said.     *'  Thank  you.     Good  night!  " 

Grace  went  on  and  Kit  turned  back  to  the  farm 
with  a  satisfaction  that  made  his  heart  beat.  In  a 
way,  the  girl  had  given  him  her  confidence;  she  had, 
at  least,  not  hidden  her  feelings.  Her  proud  calm 
was  only  on  the  surface ;  it  covered  a  generous,  im- 
pulsive nature.  Then  she  had  pluck,  because  he  could 
understand  her  difficulties.  She  was  loyal  to  her 
father,  but  hated  injustice  and  was  quickly  moved  to 
sympathy.  All  the  same,  he  had  noted  that  when  she 
spoke  of  Osborn  renewing  the  lease  she  said  zt'c,  and 
since  he  knew  why  she  had  done  so,  it  gave  him  cause 
to  think. 

It  was  the  code  of  the  old  school;  the  family  stood 
together,  a  compact  unit  to  which  she  belonged  and 
for  whose  deeds  she  believed  herself  accountable.  In 
a  sense,  this  was  rather  fine;  but  Kit,  knowing  Os- 
born's  pride,  saw  it  would  confine  their  friendship  to 
narrow  limits.  Still  he  had  no  ground  for  imagining 
she  was  his  friend,  and  he  tried  to  fix  his  thoughts 
upon  the  search  for  the  sheep.  Grace  obviously  meant 
to  talk  to  Osborn,  but  Kit  did  not  believe  the  latter 
would  be  moved  by  her  arguments. 


RAILTON'S  TALLY  47 

When  Kit  returned  to  the  farm  kitchen  Railton  was 
sitting  moodily  by  the  fire  and  his  wife's  face  was 
sternly  set.  They  are  not  an  emotional  people  in  the 
dales,  and  her  trouble  was  too  deep  for  useless  tears, 
but  as  she  glanced  about  the  room  all  she  saw  wakened 
•poignant  memories.  The  old  china  in  the  rack  had 
been  her  mother's ;  she  had  brought  it  and  the  black  oak 
meal-chest  to  Mireside  thirty  years  since.  The  copper 
kettles  and  jelly-pan  were  wedding  presents,  and  Tom, 
her  son,  who  died  in  Australia,  had  sent  the  money  to 
buy  the  sewing  machine.  Now  it  looked  as  if  her 
household  treasures  must  be  sold,  and  to  leave  Mire- 
side would  mean  the  tearing  up  of  roots  that  had 
struck  deep.  Besides,  while  she  would  suffer  it  would 
hurt  her  husband  worse.  When  Kit  came  in  she  gave 
him  a  keen  glance. 

"Weel,  what  had  Miss  Osborn  to  say?" 

"  She  didn't  say  much ;  I  think  she  means  to  talk  to 
Osborn." 

Railton  looked  up  gloomily.  *'  T'  lass  has  a  good 
heart,  but  talking  to  Osborn  will  be  o'  nea  use.  Hayes 
is  real  master  and  he  wants  Mireside  for  Jim  Richard- 
son." 

Kit  made  a  sign  of  agreement.  "  The  fellow's  get- 
ting dangerous  and  must  be  stopped.  I  suspect  he's 
backing  Bell  and  now  he  means  to  use  his  nephew; 
it's  not  altogether  for  Richardson's  sake  he  w^ants  to 
break  your  lease.  Some  day  I  imagine  Osborn  will 
find  his  agent  owns  the  estate ;  but  that's  not  our  busi- 
ness. Well,  Peter  told  me  to  remind  you  that  you  and 
he  are  old  friends,  and  if  a  hundred  pounds  would  be 
some  help — '" 

"  It  would  be  a  big  help,"  said  Railton,  and  Kit 
turned  to  the  shepherd  when  Mrs.  Railton  awkwardly 
began  to  thank  him. 

"  About  the  broken  dyke,  Tom  ?  What  d'you  think 
brought  it  down  ?  " 


48  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  I  canna  tell.  Dyke's  good  and  there  was  nea 
wind." 

They  were  all  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
Kit  said,  "  Well,  Richardson  is  a  cunning  hound." 
He  paused  and  picked  up  his  hat  before  he  turned  to 
Railton.  "  I've  a  job  at  Ashness  that  must  be  finished 
to-night.  There's  not  much  time,  but  if  it's  possible 
Tom  and  I  will  find  the  sheep." 

In  the  meantime,  Grace  walked  home  thinking  hard. 
Kit  was  Railton's  friend,  but  he  had  used  some  tact, 
until  she  forced  him  to  tell  her  the  truth.  This,  how- 
ever, was  not  important,  because  she  had  got  a  jar.  It 
looked  as  if  Osborn  had  consented  to  a  cruel  plot;  a 
landlord  ought  to  help  his  tenants  and  not  take  ad- 
vantage of  their  need.  She  tried  not  to  blame  him; 
he  had  a  bad  agent,  who  used  a  dangerous  influence. 
She  must  try  to  protect  him  from  the  fellow  and,  in  a 
way,  from  his  own  carelessness. 

After  all,  it  was,  for  the  most  part,  carelessness,  be- 
cause he  did  not  know  Hayes  as  she  knew  him.  Still, 
she  had  not  undertaken  an  easy  thing  and  she  braced 
herself  as  she  went  up  the  steps  of  the  new  terrace. 
Grace  hated  the  terrace.  It  was  the  price  they,  the 
Osborns,  had  taken  for  a  shabby  deed,  and  for  which 
poor  people  and  hard-worked  women  paid.  Grace 
knew  about  the  extra  dust  that  peat  fires  caused  and 
how  often  the  bread  was  spoiled. 

When  she  entered  the  library  Osborn  was  studying 
some  documents.  He  looked  up  impatiently,  and  she 
said,  "  I  was  at  Mireside.  Railton's  no  better  and  is 
much  disturbed  about  his  lease." 

"Not  more  disturbed  than  he  deserves!"  Osborn 
rejoined.  "  The  fellow  has  been  getting  slack  for 
some  time:  he  sold  his  store  sheep  imprudently  and 
let  the  flock  run  down." 

"  He  has  been  ill  and  the  weather  has  been  bad 
for  some  years." 


RAILTON'S  TALLY  49 

"  Exactly.  A  cautious  man  provides  for  bad  years ; 
he  knows  they  will  come." 

Grace  was  surprised  her  father  did  not  see  that  his 
statement  had  a  humorous  touch,  since  improvident 
extravagance  was  his  rule;  but  it  was  obvious  that  he 
did  not. 

"  One  cannot  save  much  money  when  rents  are  high 
and  prices  are  low." 

"  Do  you  know  much  about  these  matters  ?  "  Osborn 
asked. 

"  I  have  heard  the  farmers  talk.  Sometimes  I  ask 
them  questions." 

Osborn  frowned.  "  You  talk  too  much  to  the  farm- 
ers.    I  don't  like  it.     You  know  this." 

"  Well,"  said  Grace,  "  I  think  you  ought  not  to 
break  Railton's  lease." 

''Why?" 

Grace  hesitated.  She  began  to  see  that  Osborn  could 
not  be  moved,  but  she  had  undertaken  to  plead  Rail- 
ton's  cause. 

"  He's  an  old  man  and  has  been  at  Mireside  all 
his  life.  He  has  worked  hard  and  always  paid  his 
rent.  Now  he's  ill  and  in  trouble,  it  would  be  shabby 
to  turn  him  out  because  there's  a  risk  —  it's  only  a 
risk  —  that  we  might  lose  something  by  letting  him 
stay." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  understand  a  landlord's  duty," 
Osborn  rejoined.  "  He  is,  so  to  speak,  the  steward  in 
charge  of  the  estate;  it  belongs  to  the  family  and  is 
not  his.  He  must  hand  it  on  in  good  order  and  this 
means  he  cannot  indulge  his  sentimental  impulses, 
n  he  keeps  a  bad  tenant  from  pity,  or  because  he's 
afraid  to  seem  harsh,  he  robs  his  heir." 

Grace  knew  there  were  other,  and  perhaps  worse, 
ways  of  robbing  one's  heir:  but  she  said,  "Aren't 
you  taking  Hayes's  view  that  Railton  is  a  bad  tenant? 
After  all,  we  are  responsible." 


50  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  Then  you  suggest  that  Hayes  is  mistaken  ?  "  Os- 
bom  asked  ironically. 

"  I  don't  know  if  he's  mistaken  or  not,"  said  Grace, 
with  a  steady  look.  "  I  know  he's  greedy  and  unjust. 
But  there's  a  thing  you  ought  not  to  let  him  do.  Rail- 
ton  has  lost  forty  sheep,  that  have  strayed  back  to 
Swinset,  and  Hayes  doesn't  mean  to  count  them  in  the 
tally." 

Osborn's  face  got  red  and  he  knitted  his  brows. 
"  I  have  tried  to  be  patient;  but  this  is  too  much!  Do 
you  know  more  about  managing  an  estate  than  a  clever 
agent?  Or  do  you  think  I'm  a  fool  and  Hayes  leads 
me  like  a  child?  Anyhow,  you  are  much  too  young 
to  criticize  my  actions.  Let  us  have  no  more  of  it! 
An  unmarried  girl  is  not  entitled  to  opinions  that  clash 
with  her  parents'." 

Grace  went  out  silently.  To  know  that  she  had 
failed  hurt  her  pride,  and  it  hurt  worse  to  suspect  that 
her  father  had  got  angry  because  he  knew  she  was 
right.  Besides,  she  felt  strangely  alone;  as  she  had 
often  felt  since  she  came  home.  Gerald  was  careless 
and  thought  about  nothing  but  his  extravagant  amuse- 
ments; her  mother's  main  object  was  to  avoid  jars 
and  smooth  over  awkward  situations.  Then,  she  had 
household  cares ;  money  was  scarce,  and  since  Osborn 
hated  self-denial,  she  must  economize.  Grace  could  not 
tell  her  her  troubles;  but  there  was  a  way  by  which 
Railton  might  save  his  lease  and  Kit  could  help.  Get- 
ting a  pencil  and  paper,  she  wrote  him  a  very  short 
note: 

"  You  must  find  Railton's  sheep." 

Then,  knowing  that  she  was  rash,  she  went  to  look 
for  the  gardener's  boy,  and  sent  him  to  Ashness. 


CHAPTER  VI 

BLEATARN    GHYLL 

IT  was  getting  dark  when  Kit  and  Tom,  the  shep- 
herd, stopped  to  rest  behind  a  cairn  on  the  summit 
of  Swinset  moor.  Close  by,  the  two  score  sheep 
stood  in  a  compact  flock,  with  heads  towards  the 
panting  dogs.  They  were  Herdwicks,  a  small,  hardy 
breed  that  best  withstands  the  rain  and  snow  that 
sweep  the  high  fells  in  the  lambing  season.  When  he 
had  lighted  his  pipe,  Kith  thoughtfully  looked  about. 

On  one  side  the  barren  moor,  getting  dim  in  the 
distance,  rolled  back  to  the  edge  of  the  low  countr>\ 
Here  and  there  patches  of  melting  sleet  gleamed  a 
livid  white  among  the  withered  ling,  and  storm-torn 
hummocks  of  peaty  soil  shone  dark  chocolate-brown. 
These  were  the  only  touches  of  color  in  the  dreary 
landscape,  except  for  the  streak  of  pale-yellow  sky 
that  glimmered  above  a  long  black  ridge.  On  the 
other  side,  a  line  of  rugged  fells  with  summits  lost  in 
snow  clouds,  rose  dark  and  forbidding.  It  was  very 
cold  and  a  biting  wind  swept  the  heath. 

Kit  was  tired,  for  he  had  been  on  the  moor  since 
morning  and  had  not  eaten  much.  It  was  an  awk- 
ward matter  to  find  the  sheep,  and  then  the  men  and 
dogs  had  some  difficulty  to  keep  the  ewes  moving,  be- 
cause the  Herdwick  never  willingly  leaves  the  neigh- 
borhood where  it  was  born  and  will,  if  possible,  re- 
turn. The  lambs,  now  grown  large  and  fat,  gave  less 
trouble,  and  when  they  sometimes  stopped  irresolutely 
while  the  ewes  tried  to  break  away  Kit  understood  their 
hesitation.     Two  instincts  were  at  work:  it  was  nat- 


52  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

ural  to  follow  their  dams,  but  Mireside  was  their  na- 
tive heath  and  they  knew  they  were  going  to  be  taken 
home. 

Now  they  had  gone  some  distance,  Kit  had  to  make 
a  choice.  One  could  reach  Mireside  by  a  rough  moor- 
land road,  but  it  went  round  the  hills  and  there  was 
a  shorter  way  across  the  range.  If  he  went  round, 
he  might  arrive  late  for  the  reckoning  and  some  of  the 
lambs  would  get  footsore  and  stop.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  knew  the  fells  and  shrank  from  trying  to  find  his 
way  among  the  crags  in  the  dark.  It  was,  however, 
important  that  he  should  not  be  late.  Hayes  was  hard, 
and  the  Herdwicks  must  ^.rrive  in  time  to  be  tallied 
with  the  rest  of  Railton's  flock.  In  the  dale,  a  tenant 
had  a  traditional  right  to  have  his  sheep  valued  by  a 
jury  of  his  neighbors  and  Hayes  had  fixed  the  time 
at  eight  o'clock  next  day.  The  animals,  however,  must 
be  sorted  and  penned  before  this,  and  the  work  would 
begin  early  in  the  morning. 

"  We  had  better  try  the  fells,  Tom,"  said  Kit. 

The  shepherd  looked  at  the  threatening  sky  and 
fading  line  of  rugged  heights. 

*'  Aw,  yes.  It's  gan  t'  be  a  rough  neet,  but  we'll 
try  't.  We  can  rest  a  bit  at  oad  mine-house  this  side 
Bleatarn  ghyll." 

Now  their  route  was  fixed,  Kit  mused  about  some- 
thing else.  Railton  was  his  neighbor,  but,  except  for 
this,  Kit  had  no  particular  grounds  for  helping  him; 
he  had  obviously  nothing  to  gain.  Then,  the  peat- 
cutting  was  his  plan ;  he  had,  without  altogether  mean- 
ing to  do  so,  allowed  himself  to  become  the  leader  of 
the  revolt  against  Osborn.  In  a  way,  of  course,  he 
was  the  proper  man,  because  Ashness  belonged  to  his 
father,  and  Hayes  could  not  punish  him  for  meddling. 
Still,  Hayes  could  punish  the  tenant  farmers  and  Kit 
knew  they  ran  some  risk. 

On  the  whole,  he  thought  the  risk  worth  while.     He 


BLEATARN  GHYLL  53 

had  a  talent  that  was  beginning  to  develop  for  leading 
and  saw  when  one  could  negotiate  and  when  one  must 
fight.  He  did  not  want  to  fight  Osborn,  but  was  be- 
ing forced  into  the  conflict,  and  it  was  comforting  to 
feel  that  Miss  Osborn  was  not  against  him.  Her  note, 
telling  him  he  must  find  the  sheep,  was  in  his  pocket, 
and  he  thought  it  had  cost  her  something  to  write. 
She  was  generous  and  plucky  and  he  must  not  hesitate. 
After  all,  the  job  was  his  and  since  he  had  accepted 
it,  he  must,  if  needful,  bear  the  consequences.  Knock- 
ing out  his  pipe,  he  got  up. 

"  We'll  make  a  start,  Tom,"  he  said. 

The  shepherd  shouted  to  the  dogs,  the  flock  broke 
up  and  trailed  out  across  the  heatli.  The  ewes  moved 
slowly,  turning  now  and  then,  and  Kit  thought  it 
ominous  that  they  met  other  flocks  coming  down.  The 
Herdwicks  knew  the  weather  and  were  heading  for  the 
sheltered  dales.  For  all  that,  he  pushed  on,  with  a 
bitter  wind  in  his  face,  and  by  and  by  cold  rain  began 
to  fall.  It  changed  to  sleet  and  the  night  had 
got  very  dark  when  they  crossed  the  shoulder  of  a 
stony  fell.  One  could  not  see  fifty  yards,  but  the 
steepness  of  the  slope  and  the  click  of  little  hoofs  on 
the  wet  rock  told  Kit  where  they  were. 

Two  hours  afterwards,  he  stopped  for  breath  at 
the  bottom  of  a  narrow  valley.  The  sleet  had  turned 
to  driving  snow,  the  wind  howled  in  the  rocks  above, 
and  a  swollen  beck  brawled  angrily  among  the  stones. 
Tom  was  hardly  distinguishable  a  few  yards  ahead 
and  Kit  could  not  see  the  sheep,  but  the  barking  of  the 
dogs  came  faintly  down  the  steep  white  slope.  The 
Herdwicks  were  strung  out  along  the  hillside,  with  a 
dog  below  and  above,  and  it  was  comforting  to  know 
they  could  not  leave  the  valley,  which  was  shut  in  by 
rugged  crags.  For  a  time,  driving  them  would  be 
easy;  but  it  would  be  different  when  they  left  the  water 
and  climbed  the  rise  to  Bleatarn  ghyll. 


54  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"How  far  are  we  off  the  mine-house,  Tom?"  he 
shouted. 

"I  dinna  ken,"  said  the  shepherd.  "  Mayhappen 
two  miles.  Ewes  is  travelling  better;  t'  lambs  is  lead- 
ing them." 

Kit  agreed,  and  they  pushed  on  through  the  snow. 
After  a  time,  the  ground  got  steeper,  and  when  they 
crossed  the  noisy  beck  and  scrambled  up  a  shaly  bank, 
Kit  was  glad  to  see  a  broken  wall  loom  among  the 
tossing  flakes.  This  was  the  shaft-house  of  an  aban- 
doned mine,  and  there  was  a  sheep-fold,  built  with 
pulled-down  material,  close  by.  He  shouted  and 
waited  until  he  heard  the  dogs  bark  and  a  rattle  of 
stones.  The  Herdwicks  were  coming  down  and  pres- 
ently broke  out  from  +he  snow  in  a  compact,  strug- 
gling flock.  Tom  shouted  and  threw  a  hurdle  across 
the  entrance  when  the  dogs  had  driven  tlie  sheep  into 
the  fold. 

"  I  dinna  ken  if  snow'll  tak'  off  or  not,  but  it's  early 
yet  and  we  must  have  a  rest  before  we  try  ghyll,"  he 
said. 

They  went  into  the  shaft-house  and  Kit  struck  a 
match.  One  end  of  the  building  had  been  pulled  down 
and  the  snow  blew  in  through  holes  in  the  roof,  but  a 
pile  of  dry  fern  filled  a  corner  and  rotten  beams  lay 
about.  With  some  trouble,  they  lighted  a  fire  and, 
sitting  down  close  by,  took  out  the  food  they  had 
brought.  The  wind  screamed  about  the  ruined  walls, 
the  smoke  eddied  round  them,  and  now  and  then  a 
shower  of  snow  fell  on  their  heads,  but  they  had  some 
shelter  and  could,  if  forced,  wait  for  morning. 

"  Miss  Osbora's  a  bonny  lass  and  kind ;  but  I  reckon 
she  couldn't  talk  her  father  round,"  Tom  presently 
remarked. 

"  No,"  said  Kit.     "  I  believe  she  tried." 

**  Favors  her  mother,"  Tom  resumed.  "  Mrs.  Os- 
born's  heart  is  good,  but  at  Tamside  women  dinna 


BLEATARN  GHYLL  ^^ 

count.  It's  a  kind  o'  pity,  because  t'  Osborn  menfolk 
are  lakers  and  always  was." 

A  laker  is  a  lounging  pleasure-seeker  and  Kit  ad- 
mitted that  the  remark  was  justified. 

"  I  sometimes  think  Osborn  means  well,"  he  said. 

"  Mayhappen !  For  aw  his  ordering  folks  aboot, 
he's  wake;  like  his  father,  I  mind  him  weel.  Might 
mak'  a  fair  landlord  if  he  was  letten  and  had  t'  money; 
but  cad  Hayes  is  grasping  and  always  at  his  tail." 

"  The  rent-roll's  good.  The  estate  could  be  man- 
aged well." 

"  There's  t'  mortgages  and  Osborn  canna  keep 
money.  When  he  has  it  he  must  spend.  There  would 
be  nea  poor  landlord's,  if  I  had  my  way.  I'd  let  them 
putten  rents  up  if  they  had  money  and  spent  it  on  the 
land.     Low  rent  means  poor  farming." 

Kit  knew  this  was  true  on  the  Tarnside  estate. 
Dykes  that  had  kept  the  floods  off  the  meadows  were 
falling  down,  drains  were  choked,  and  land  that  had 
grown  good  crops  was  going  sour.  The  wise  use  of 
capital  would  make  a  wholesome  change,  but  Kit  did 
not  altogether  like  centralized  control.  Although  it 
was  economical,  the  landlord  got  the  main  advantage, 
and  there  was  much  a  farmer  could  do,  in  cooperation 
with  his  neighbors,  to  help  himself,  if  his  lease  was 
long  enough.  Then,  joint  action  was  once  common 
in  the  dale.  Men  pooled  their  labor  and  implements 
at  haytime  and  harvest,  and  combined  for  their  mutual 
benefit  in  other  ways.  Now  it  looked  as  if  they  might 
combine  again. 

"  Are  they  grumbling  much  at  Allerby  about  burn- 
ing peat  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  T'  women  grumble,"  Tom  said  dryly.  "  But  they 
willunt  stop,  for  aw  the  dirt  peat  maks  an'  they  canna 
get  ovens  hot.  I  reckon  Bell  has  mair  coal  coming  in 
than  he  can  get  shut  of.  When  I  was  at  station  last 
t'  yards  was  nearly  full." 


56  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  I  rather  think  Bell  has  been  too  greedy.  He  must 
pay  for  the  coal  as  it  arrives  and  his  money  is  probably 
getting  short;  the  traction  engine  and  trailer  cost  a 
good  sum,  and  he  has  spent  something  on  the  lime- 
kilns.    In  fact,  if  we  hold  on,  he's  bound  to  give  way." 

"  Then  we'll  brek  him.  Our  folks  are  slow  to  f  ratch, 
but  they're  not  quick  at  letting  go,"  said  Tom,  who 
paused  and  added :  "  I  wunner  where  Bell  got  his 
money;  he  had  none  when  he  took  a  job  at  mill  in  cad 
Osborn's  time." 

This  started  Kit  on  another  line  of  thought.  Bell 
had,  no  doubt,  saved  something,  for  he  was  par- 
simonious, and  was  too  keen  a  business  man  to  leave 
his  money  in  the  bank.  All  he  made  by  one  speculation 
was  sunk  in  another;  but,  after  allowing  for  this,  it 
was  hard  to  see  where  he  got  the  capital  for  his  numer- 
ous ventures.  Kit  wondered  whether  Hayes  helped; 
if  he  did,  it  was  not  from  friendship.  The  agent  was 
clever  and  might  be  playing  a  cunning  game,  in  which 
he  used  both  Osborn  and  Bell.  In  fact.  Kit  thought  if 
he  were  Osborn  he  would  watch  Hayes.  This,  how- 
ever, was  not  his  business,  and  getting  up  he  went  to 
a  hole  in  the  wall. 

It  was  snowing  very  hard ;  he  could  see  nothing  but 
a  haze  of  tossing  flakes,  and  the  wind  filled  the  valley 
with  its  roar.  He  could  hardly  hear  the  beck  a  few 
yards  off. 

"  The  drifts  will  be  getting  deep,  but  we  can't  start 
yet,"  he  said.  "  If  we  miss  the  track  at  the  top,  there's 
nothing  to  stop  us  falling  over  the  Ling  Crag." 

Tom  agreed,  and  Kit  shivered  when  he  sat  down 
again.  He  was  cold  and  tired,  and  the  worst  part 
of  the  journey  must  yet  be  made.  Looking  at  his 
watch  he  resigned  himself  to  wait,  and  leaned  back 
with  eyes  closed  against  the  wall  while  a  wet  dog 
crouched  at  his  feet.  An  hour  or  two  passed  and  then 
Tom  got  up. 


BLEATARN  GHYLL  57 

"  Snow's  takin'  off,"  he  said.     "  We  must  try  it." 

Kit,  pulling  himself  together,  went  out  and  faced 
the  storm.  The  snow  was  thinner,  but  the  wind  had 
not  dropped  and  buffeted  him  savagely  as  he  struggled 
through  a  drift  to  the  fold.  The  dogs  had  some 
trouble  to  drive  out  the  sheep,  and  when  they  strag- 
gled through  the  opening  Kit  imagined  the  lambs  went 
in  front.  In  a  few  moments  the  flock  vanished,  and 
he  breathed  hard  as  he  followed  their  track  up  hill. 
Now  and  then  the  dogs  barked,  but  for  the  most  part 
he  heard  nothing  except  the  roar  of  the  wind  in  the 
crags.  He  hoped  the  dogs  could  find  the  path  across 
the  narrow  tableland  between  two  branching  ghylls, 
because  it  was  obvious  that  his  judgment  might  be  at 
fault.  However,  there  were  the  lambs ;  one  could  trust 
a  Herdwick  to  return  to  its  heaf. 

When  he  reached  the  top  the  wind  had  blown  away 
the  snow,  and  he  stood  near  the  middle  of  a  narrow 
belt  of  heath,  with  his  feet  sinking  in  a  bog.  On 
each  side,  he  got  a  glimpse  of  dark  rocks,  streaked  with 
white  where  the  wind  had  packed  the  snow  into  the 
gullies.  In  front  there  was  a  gulf,  down  which  his 
path  led.  Scattered  snowflakes  and  rolling  mist 
streamed  up  from  the  forbidding  hollow.  At  first  he 
could  see  nothing  of  the  sheep,  but  as  he  floundered 
across  the  bog  the  dogs  barked  and  he  found  them 
presently,  guarding  the  flock  in  a  hollow  among  the 
crags. 

The  sheep  broke  away  and  Kit  pushed  on  across  the 
narrow  belt  of  bog  that  was  dotted  by  the  marks  of 
little  feet.  Sometimes  he  slackened  his  pace  to  wait  for 
Tom ;  the  shepherd  was  getting  old  and  the  long  climb 
had  tired  him.  Both  stopped  for  some  moments 
when  they  reached  the  brow  of  the  descent,  and  Kit, 
bracing  himself  against  the  storm  tried  to  look  about. 
He  thought  he  saw  the  flock  close  in  front. 

**  They  seem  doubtful  where  to  go,"  he  said. 


58  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  We  can  do  nowt  but  leave  them  to  find  t'  ghyll," 
the  shepherd  remarked. 

Kit  agreed.  Bleatarn  ghyll  was  beneath  him,  but 
there  was  another  hollow  and  it  is  hard  to  walk  straight 
down  hill  in  the  dark  He  must  trust  the  sheep,  and, 
huddling  close  together,  they  refused  to  leave  the  crag. 
When  the  dogs  drove  them  out  they  vanished,  and 
since  the  ground  was  bare  of  snow  they  left  no  tracks. 

He  stumbled  on,  falling  into  pools  and  stumbling 
across  banks  of  stones,  and  soon  stopped  again.  He 
had  come  down  the  slope,  so  to  speak,  blindly,  and  now 
stood  on  the  edge  of  a  vast,  dark  pit.  One  could  not 
see  beyond  the  edge,  but  the  confused  noises  that  came 
up  hinted  at  profound  depth.  The  gale  shrieked,  but 
he  heard  the  roar  of  falling  water  and  the  rattle  of 
stones  the  wind  dislodged. 

"  Do  you  think  this  is  Beatarn  ghyll?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  dinna  ken,"  Tom  answered ;  and  added  hopefully, 
"  if  it's  t'ither,  we'll  mayhappen  find  oot  before  we  step 
over  Ling  Crag." 

They  went  down  at  a  venture,  whistling  vainly  for 
the  dogs.  The  drop  was  very  sharp,  and  now  they 
were  leaving  the  wind-swept  pass,  the  snow  had  begun 
to  pack  among  the  stones  and  boggy  grass.  Still,  so 
far  as  they  could  see,  there  were  no  marks  of  little 
feet  and  they  wondered  what  had  happened  to  the 
flock,  until  a  faint  bark  came  out  of  the  mist.  The 
noise  got  louder  and  Kit  knew  the  dogs  were  running 
round  the  stopping  sheep. 

"  We're  right,"  he  said.  "  They've  gone  through 
the  broken  wall  and  the  dogs  are  holding  them  at  the 
top  of  the  force." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  he  scrambled  over  a  pile 
of  fallen  stones,  shouted  to  Tom,  and  began  to  run, 
for  he  understood  what  had  happened.  The  broken 
wall  marked  the  boundary  of  the  Mireside  heaf  and 
the  sheep  were  now  on  familiar  ground.     It  was  his 


BLEATARN  GHYLL  59 

business  to  drive  them  to  the  farm,  but  they  were  trying 
to  turn  off  to  look  for  shelter  among  the  crags.  At 
the  force,  where  the  Bleatarn  beck  leaps  in  linked  falls 
to  the  valley,  one  could  get  down  between  the  water  and 
the  rocks;  on  the  other  side,  a  path  about  a  foot  wide 
led  across  the  face  of  a  precipice.  In  daylight,  if  the 
stones  were  dry,  a  man  with  steady  nerves  could  use 
the  path,  but  when  slab  and  scree  were  packed  with 
snow  nothing  but  a  Herdwick  could  cross  it  safely. 
The  dogs  knew  this  and  were  trying  to  hold  the  flock. 

When  the  men  came  up  they  saw  an  indistinct, 
woolly  mass  on  the  other  side  of  the  beck.  The  mass 
was  not  level  but  slanted  sharply,  and  the  sheep  at  the 
bottom  sent  down  showers  of  stones  as  they  surged  to 
and  fro,  with  heads  turned  to  the  dogs.  It  was  obvi- 
ous that  they  did  not  mean  to  go  down  the  ghyll,  and 
Herdwicks  born  among  the  crags  can  climb  where  no 
dog  can  follow. 

"  The  dogs  canna  turn  them,"  gasped  Tom. 
"  They'll  be  away  ower  Eel  Scar ;  tliey're  brekkin' 
noo." 

The  flock  began  to  open  out  and  three  or  four  sheep 
straggled  forward,  but  Kit's  bob-tailed  dog  slid  down 
a  snowy  slab  and  fell  upon  the  first.  The  sheep  ran 
back,  but  the  others  stood  and  Kit  saw  the  dog  could 
not  stop  them  long.  The  Herdwicks  knew  the  ad- 
vantage was  theirs  on  ground  like  this. 

Jumping  from  a  boulder,  he  fell  into  the  swollen 
beck  and  made  his  way  up  the  nearly  perpendicular 
slab.  At  the  top  he  found  a  dangerous  ledge  and 
advanced  upon  the  sheep,  which  had  their  backs  to 
the  stream.  Twining  his  fingers  in  a  lamb's  wool,  he 
picked  up  the  animal  and  balancing  himself  precari- 
ously threw  it  as  far  as  he  could.  It  fell  into  the  beck 
and  scrambled  out  on  the  other  side,  where  the  track 
led  down  the  ghyll.  The  effort  had  cost  him  much, 
for  his  heart  beat  and  he  gasped  for  breath,  but  he 


6o  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

doubted  if  he  had  done  enough.  Dragging  another 
lamb  from  the  flock,  he  hurled  it  into  the  water,  and 
then  his  foot  slipped  and  he  rolled  down  the  slab  and 
fell  in  the  snow. 

He  got  up,  badly  shaken,  and  saw  that  his  plan 
had  worked.  Sheep  will  follow  a  leader  and  the  flock 
was  straggling  down  the  ghyll  behind  the  lambs.  Kit 
recrossed  the  beck  and  descended  cautiously,  keeping 
close  to  the  rocks.  The  ghyll  is  a  rough  climb  in  day- 
light, and  summer  tourists,  trying  to  cross  the  fells, 
often  turn  back  at  the  bottom.  There  is  no  path  and 
one  scrambles  over  large,  sharp  stones,  some  of  which 
are  loose  and  fall  at  a  touch.  In  places,  banks  of 
treacherous  gravel  drop  to  the  beck,  which  plunges  over 
ledges  into  deep,  spray-veiled  pools.  Now  the  stones 
were  slippery  with  snow,  the  wind  raged,  and  mist 
and  tossing  flakes  hid  the  ground  a  few  yards  ahead. 

Somehow  he  got  down,  but  he  was  exhausted  and 
breathless  when  he  reached  the  bottom,  where  he  was 
forced  to  wait  before  he  could  whistle  to  his  dog.  He 
heard  its  bark  and  stumbling  fonvard,  found  the  flock 
bunched  together  in  a  hollow.  Then  he  sat  down  in 
the  snow  while  Tom  counted  the  sheep. 

"  They're  aw  here,"  said  the  shepherd.  "  A  better 
job  than  I  thowt  we'd  mak !     Weel,  let's  gan  on." 

Kit  was  tired,  and  bruised  by  his  fall,  but  he  went 
forward  behind  the  dogs.  His  troubles  were  over, 
for  a  broad  smooth  path  led  along  the  hill- foot  to 
Mireside. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    RECKONING 

THE  morning  was  dark,  and  although  the  gale 
had  dropped,  a  raw,  cold  wind  blew  up  the 
valley  past  Mireside  farm,  where  three  or  four  farmers' 
traps  and  some  rusty  bicycles  stood  beneath  the  pro- 
jecting roof  of  a  barn.  The  bleating  of  sheep  rose 
from  a  boggy  pasture  by  the  beck,  and  lights  twinkled 
as  men  with  lanterns  moved  about  in  the  gloom.  Now 
and  then  somebody  shouted  and  dogs  barked  as  a  flock 
of  Herd  wicks  was  driven  to  the  pens. 

In  the  flagged  kitchen,  Mrs.  Railton  and  Lucy  bustled 
about  by  the  light  of  a  lamp  and  the  glow  of  the  fire. 
The  table  was  covered  with  used  plates  and  cups.  The 
men  outside  had  breakfasted,  but  one  or  two  more 
might  come  and  Mrs.  Railton  wondered  when  Kit 
would  arrive.  She  had  lain  awake  for  the  most  part 
of  the  night,  thinking  about  him  and  the  strayed  Herd- 
wicks  while  she  listened  to  the  gale.  Now  and  then 
Lucy  went  to  the  door  and  looked  up  the  dale  to  the 
glimmering  line  of  foam  that  marked  the  spot  where 
Bleatarn  beck  came  down.  A  path  followed  the  water- 
side, but  she  could  not  see  men  or  sheep  in  the  gloom, 
and  if  Kit  did  not  come  soon  he  would  be  too  late. 

Railton  sat  gloomily  by  the  fire.  He  had  had  rheu- 
matic fever,  and  the  damp  cold  racked  his  aching 
joints ;  besides,  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do.  He 
had  called  in  his  neighbors  to  value  his  flock,  but  he 
knew,  to  a  few  pounds,  what  their  judgment  would 
be.  Hayes  w'ould  presently  arrive,  and  Railton  would 
be  asked  to  pay,  or  give  security  for,  the  shortage, 
which  was  impossible.     Hayes  knew  this  and  meant 

6i 


62  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

to  break  his  lease.  Perhaps  the  hardest  thing  was  that 
the  shortage  was  small;  if  the  next  lambing  season 
were  good,  he  could  pay.  But  Hayes  would  not 
wait. 

Although  Railton  was  too  proud  to  beg  for  help 
from  his  neighbors,  he  had  gone  to  the  bank.  Osborn, 
however,  used  the  same  bank,  and  it  looked  as  if 
Hayes  had  given  the  manager  a  hint,  because  he  re- 
fused a  loan.  Askew  had  offered  a  hundred  pounds, 
but  this  was  not  enough,  and  even  if  Kit  arrived  with 
the  sheep  from  Swinset,  Railton  could  not  find  the 
rest  of  the  money.  However,  the  arrival  of  the  Herd- 
wicks  would  make  a  difference,  and  he  did  not  alto- 
gether give  up  hope.  By  and  by  he  tried  to  get  up, 
and  sitting  down  again  with  a  groan,  beckoned  his 
wife. 

"  Martha,  you  might  gan  to  door." 

Mrs.  Railton,  knowing  what  he  meant,  went  to  the 
porch.  It  was  lighter  outside  and  the  hillside  was 
growing  distinct.  She  thought  something  moved  on 
the  path  beside  the  beck,  and  turned  to  her  daughter, 
who  had  followed. 

"  What's  yon  by  the  water,  Lucy?  " 

Lucy  was  silent  for  a  few  moments  and  then  said 
quietly,  "  I  think  it's  sheep !  " 

She  watched  the  path.  The  mist  made  a  puzzling 
background  and  her  eyes  were  getting  dazzled ;  but 
there  was  something.  Then  she  heard  a  chair  jar  on 
the  flags  and  glanced  at  Railton,  who  leaned  for- 
ward. 

"  Weel  ?  "  he  said.  "  Canna  you  speak  ?  Is  nea- 
body  coming  yet  ?  " 

Lucy  threw  another  glance  up  the  dale  and  her 
heart  beat.  An  indistinct  row  of  small  dark  objects 
moved  along  the  path,  with  two  tall  figures  behind. 

"Kit's  coming  down  the  beck;  he's  brought  the 
Herdwicks !  "  she  cried. 


THE  RECKONING  63 

"  Canny  lad!  "  said  Railton,  and  leaning  back  limply, 
wiped  his  face.  His  forehead  was  wet  with  sweat, 
for  he  was  weak  and  the  suspense  had  been  keen. 

The  sheep  vanished  behind  a  wall,  and  Lucy  began 
to  put  fresh  food  on  the  table.  Mrs.  Railton  hung  a 
kettle  on  a  hook  above  the  fire,  and  then  turned  with 
a  start  as  a  girl  came  into  the  porch. 

"  Miss  Osborn !  "  she  exclaimed. 

Grace  advanced  calmly,  although  there  was  some 
color  in  her  face,  because  she  knew  the  others  were 
surprised  that  she  had  come. 

"  Is  Mr.  Hayes  here?  "  she  asked. 

*'  Mayhappen  he's  at  the  pens,"  Lucy  replied.  "  I 
thought  I  heard  his  car." 

"  Then  I  missed  him  at  the  cross-roads,"  said  Grace. 
*'  I  was  going  to  Allerby,  and  my  father  asked  me  to 
give  him  a  note  when  he  stopped  at  Lawson's."  She 
hesitated,  and  then  resumed  impulsively :  "  Perhaps 
I  oughtn't  to  have  come  on;  but  I  wanted  to  do  so." 

They  knew  what  she  meant,  but  nobody  answered, 
and  Grace  sat  down  on  a  bench  by  the  table. 

"  Will  you  give  the  note  to  Mr.  Hayes  ?  Has  Kit 
Askew  brought  the  Swinset  sheep?  " 

"  He's  coming  now,"  said  Lucy,  picking  up  the  note, 
and  Grace's  eyes  sparkled. 

**  I  knew  he  would  bring  them ;  I  told  him  he  must." 

Lucy  went  out  and  Grace  asked  Railton  about  his 
pains.  While  they  talked  somebody  shouted  outside, 
and  the  old  man,  getting  up  with  an  effort,  hobbled  to 
the  door. 

"  Hoad  on ;  dinna  close  t'  pen,"  a  man  called. 
"  Here's  Kit  and  t'  lot  fra  Swinset." 

Three  of  four  more  shouted  and  Grace,  who  had 
followed  Railton,  thought  there  was  a  note  of  triumph 
in  their  cries.  Then  dogs  began  to  bark,  somebody 
opened  a  gate,  and  a  flock  of  Herdwicks,  leaping  out 
with  wet  fleeces  shaking,  and  hoofs  clicking  on  stone, 


TsH.  1 ':  XAXEim  FA?  J' ul  .-. 
nrr  icns  i  sm..  --    ^^^  -  -   - 

'*1b;  W3S  nea.  ax  '*asj 


''j^sti*  -.:  ^E  git  :3i: 

'  '     : '    :  ■  £7*^  too:  iir. 


aiiinra:  die  lafcle  Gcace  sadle:  awcacv,     S&e  knew 


iff  RTfr  A:»Jr*?''n'.      FT**  ^'f^- 


THE  RECKONING  65 

moved  her,  because  she  knew  the  dalesfolk's  reserve 
and  that  the  farmer  would  not,  without  good  grounds, 
have  spoken  as  he  did.  Moreover,  she  knew  the  fells, 
and  it  was  something  of  an  exploit  to  bring  the  sheep 
frofh  Swinset  in  the  storm.  Kit  was,  of  course,  a 
farmer's  son,  but  he  was  plucky  and  generous;  besides, 
she  approved  his  steady  look,  well-balanced,  muscular 
figure,  and  clean  brown  skin.  Then  she  blushed  and 
began  to  wonder  what  she  would  say  about  her  visit 
to  Mireside  when  she  went  home. 

In  the  meantime.  Kit  ate  his  breakfast,  and  soon 
afterwards  Peter  Askew  came  in  and  began  to  talk  to 
Railton.  Until  the  valuation  was  agreed  upon  there 
was  nothing  for  them  to  do,  and  it  was  some  time 
before  the  men  returned  from  the  pens.  They  v.ere 
plain  farmers  with  rather  hard,  brown  faces,  and 
stood  about  the  fire  in  half -embarrassed  silence  while 
Hayes  sat  down  at  the  table  and  opened  his  pocket- 
book. 

"  We  have  made  up  the  tally,"  he  began,  and  Rail- 
ton  interrupted. 

*'  Counting  in  the  lambs  and  ewes  fra  Swinset?  " 

"  They  are  counted,"  Hayes  replied.  ''  I'll  give  yoti 
particulars  of  the  different  lots." 

He  read  out  some  figures  and  then  turned  to  the 
group  by  the  fire.     "  I  think  we  are  all  agreed?  " 

"  Aw,  yis,"  said  one.  "  It's  as  near  as  yan  can 
mak'  it,  withoot  sending  flock  to  auction." 

Hayes  turned  to  Railton.     "  Are  you  satisfied?  " 

"  We  willunt  fratch.  Mayhappen  two  or  three  lots 
would  fetch  anither  pound  or  two,  but  we'll  ca'  it  fair." 

*'  Then  we  must  thank  these  gentlemen,"  said  Hayes, 
who  shut  his  pocket-book  and  took  out  a  document. 
"  As  there  is  some  other  business  and  they  have  given 
us  some  time,  we  need  not  keep  them." 

The  men  looked  at  one  another  and  Peter  Askew 
said,  "If  Railton  doesn't  mind,  we'd  sooner  stop." 


66  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"Stop  if  you  like,"  Railton  agreed.  "You've  got 
me  a  just  reckoning  and  you're  neebors  aw." 

"  It's  not  necessary,"  Hayes  objected.  "  The  busi- 
ness we  have  to  transact  is  private." 

"  They  ken  it,"  Railton  repHed  in  a  stubborn  voice. 
"  I've  bid  them  stop  and  the  hoose  is  mine  until  Mr. 
Osborn  turns  me  oot." 

"  Very  well.  You  know  the  sum  due  to  the  land- 
lord.    Are  you  ready  to  pay  ?  " 

"  I  canna  pay.     It's  weel  you  ken." 

"  Then,  can  you  give  security  for  the  debt?  " 

"  I  canna  and  wadn't  give  it  if  I  could.  There's 
ways  a  cliver  agent  can  rui:  up  a  reckoning,  and  when 
you  want  Mireside  I'll  have  to  gan." 

"  Then,  I'm  afraid  v/e  shall  be  forced  to  break  the 
lease  and  take  measures  to  recover  the  sum  due." 

"  Hoad  on  a  minute !  "  said  one  of  the  group,  who 
turned  to  Railton.     "  Would  you  like  to  stop  ?  " 

"  I  would  like ;  I've  lived  at  Mireside  sin'  I  was  born. 
There's  another  thing :  it's  none  too  good  a  time  for  a 
sale  o'  farming  stock,  and  when  I've  paid  Osborn,  I'll 
need  some  money  to  mak'  anither  start.  Then  may- 
happen  a  dry  spring  wold  put  me  straight." 

"  It  ought  to ;  you're  not  much  behind,"  Peter  agreed. 
"  Weel,  you  ken  I'm  generally  willing  to  back  my 
judgment,  and  noo  it  seems  there's  others  think  like 
me." 

"  In  a  sense,  the  lease  does  not  run  out  yet,"  Kit  in- 
terposed. "  It  has  rather  reached  the  half-term,  be- 
cause by  our  custom  Railton  is  entitled  to  take  it  up 
again  for  an  equal  period  if  he  and  the  landlord 
agree  about  the  necessary  adjustment.  Chir  leases 
really  cover  a  double  term." 

Hayes  turned  to  him  with  an  ironical  smile.  "  Do 
you  know  much  about  tenant  law?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Kit,  rather  dryly.  "  I  made  some 
studies  when  I  could  get  the  books,  but  they  didn't  take 


THE  RECKONING  67 

me  far.  In  fact,  I  imagine  that  in  this  neighborhood 
there's  very  Httle  law  and  much  precedent,  which  has 
generally  been  interpreted  for  the  landlord's  advantage. 
There  are  old  Barony  laws  and  Manor  rights,  and  my 
notion  is  that  nobody  knows  exactly  how  he  stands. 
But  we'll  let  this  go.  If  Railton  pays  his  fine,  you 
will  have  some  trouble  to  get  rid  of  him." 

Hayes  agreed  and  Railton  looked  up  with  a  puzzled 
air. 

"  But  I  canna  pay,"  he  said  dully. 

The  farmer  who  had  interrupted  Hayes  took  out 
a  bulky  envelope  and  crossed  the  floor. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  think  you're  wrang.  Your 
friends  have  been  talking  aboot  the  thing  and  wadn't 
like  t'  see  you  gan."  He  gave  Railton  the  envelope, 
adding:  "  It's  a  loan." 

Railton's  hand  shook  as  he  took  out  a  bundle  of 
bank-notes.  "  You're  good  neebors,"  he  said  in  a 
strained  voice.  "  But  I  dinna  think  I  ought  to  tak' 
your  money.     There's  a  risk." 

"  Not  much  risk  in  backing  an  honest  man,"  the 
other  rejoined,  and  taking  the  notes  from  Railton  gave 
them  to  Hayes.     "  Noo,  if  3^ou'll  count  these — " 

Hayes'  face  was  inscrutable  as  he  flicked  over  the 
notes.  "  The  total's  correct.  It's  an  awkward  bundle ; 
a  check  would  have  been  simpler." 

"  A  check  has  the  drawback  that  it  must  be  signed," 
Kit  remarked  with  a  meaning  smile.  "  We're  mod- 
est folk,  and  nobody  was  anxious  to  write  himself 
down  the  leader." 

"I  see!"  said  Hayes.  "I  don't  know  if  you're 
modest;  but  you're  certainly  cautious." 

"  Anyhow,  we're  aw  in  this,"  said  one  of  the  others. 

"  So  it  seems.  I  hope  you*  won't  lose  your  money," 
Hayes  rejoined  dryly  and  took  out  a  fountain  pen. 
"  Well,  here's  your  receipt,  Mr.  Railton.  I  don't  think 
there  is  anything  more  to  be  said." 


68  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

He  put  the  receipt  on  the  table  and  when  he  went 
away  a  farmer  laughed. 

"  Oad  Hayes  is  quiet  and  cunning  as  a  hill  fox,  but 
my  lease  has  some  time  to  go  and  he  canna  put  us 
aw  cot." 

Railton  tried  to  thank  them,  while  Mrs.  Railton 
smiled  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  the  dalesfolk  dis- 
like emotion  and  as  soon  as  it  was  possible  the  visitors 
went  away. 

An  hour  or  two  afterwards  Grace  heard  about  the 
matter  from  the  sick  wife  of  a  farmer,  whom  she  had 
gone  to  see,  and  when  she  went  home  thought  she 
had  better  not  confess  that  she  had  taken  Hayes'  note 
to  Mireside.  When  Osborn  joined  his  wife  and 
daughter  at  the  tea-table  in  the  hall  after  some  dis- 
appointing shooting,  his  remarks  about  his  tenants 
were  rancorous.  Grace  thought  it  prudent  not  to  talk 
and  left  the  table  as  soon  as  she  could.  When  she  had 
gone,  Osborn  frowned  and  getting  up  savagely  kicked 
a  log  in  the  grate. 

"  I  got  a  nasty  knock  this  morning,"  he  said.  "  It's 
not  so  much  that  I  mind  letting  Railton  stop;  I  hate 
to  feel  I've  been  baffled  and  made  the  victim  of  a 
plot." 

"  After  all,  wasn't  it  rather  Hayes's  idea  than  yours 
that  Railton  ought  to  go?  "  Mrs.  Osborn  ventured. 

"  It  was;  there's  some  comfort  in  that!  You.  don't 
like  Hayes  much." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  dislike  him.  I'm  not  sure 
I  trust  him." 

"  W^ell,"  said  Osborn  thoughtfully,  "  I  sometimes 
feel  he's  keenest  about  my  interests  when  they  don't 
clash  with  his,  and  this  last  affair  was  a  pretty  good 
example  of  nepotism.  For  all  that,  his  nephew  would 
have  been  a  better  tenant  and  have  paid  a  higher  rent." 
He  paused  and  knitted  his  brows  angrily  as  he  re- 
sumed :     "  However,   it's   done   with,   and   one   can't 


THE  RECKONING  69 

blame  Railton  for  holding  on  to  hi^  lease.  What  I 
hate  to  feel  is,  the  others  plotted  to  baffle  me.  The 
land  is  mine,  but  I'd  sooner  get  on  well  with  my  ten- 
ants." 

"  One  cannot,  so  to  speak,  have  it  both  ways,"  Mrs. 
Osbom  remarked  timidly. 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean !  But  I  don't  think 
I'm  a  harsh  landlord.  If  money  was  not  quite  so 
scarce,  I  might  be  generous.  In  fact,  I  don't  know 
that  I'd  have  agreed  to  turning  Railton  out  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  Gerald's  confounded  debts  and  his  allow- 
ance at  Woolwich,     That's  a  fresh  expense." 

Mrs.  Osborn  thought  the  expense  did  not  count  for 
much  by  comparison  with  her  husband's  extravagance; 
but  he  had  been  rather  patient  and  she  must  not  go  too 
far. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  you  have  got  Railton's  fine." 

"  It  is  not  a  large  sum,"  Osborn  answered  with  a 
frown.  "  I  need  the  money,  but  in  a  sense  I'd  sooner 
it  had  not  been  paid.  Anyhow,  I'd  sooner  it  had  not 
been  paid  like  that.  The  others'  confounded  organ- 
ized opposition  anno)^s  me." 

"  They  were  forced  to  subscribe  to  a  fund  if  they 
wanted  to  help." 

"  Just  so ;  but  they  probably  wouldn't  have  thought 
about  subscribing  if  Askew  hadn't  suggested  it. 
They're  an  independent  lot  and  believe  in  standing  on 
their  own  feet.  For  a  time  after  I  got  Tarnside,  they 
used  a  sensible,  give-and-take  attitude;  it's  only  re- 
cently they've  met  with  stupid,  sullen  suspicion." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  rather  a  mistake  to  give  Bell  the 
coal  yards'  lease." 

"  The  coal  yards  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  Osborn 
declared.  "  The  trouble  began  earlier,  and  I've 
grounds  for  believing  it  began  at  Ashness.  If  I  was 
rich  enough,  I'd  buy  the  Askews  out.  They  know 
I've  no  power  over  them  and  take  advantage  of  the 


70  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

situation.  The  old  man  was  a  bad  example  for  the 
others,  but  his  son,  with  his  raw  communistic  notions, 
is  dangerous.  If  I  could  get  rid  of  the  meddling  fool 
somehow,  it  would  be  a  keen  relief." 

He  came  back  to  the  table  and  picked  up  a  cup  of 
tea.  Then,  grumbling  that  it  had  gone  cold,  he  put 
it  down  noisily  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

GRACE   FINDS   A   WAY 

SOON  after  the  reckoning  at  Mireside,  the  snow 
melted  off  the  fells  and  for  a  month  dark  rain 
clouds  from  the  sea  rolled  up  the  dale.  They  broke 
upon  the  hill  tops  in  heav}-  showers,  gray  mist  drifted 
about  the  wet  slopes,  the  becks  roared  in  the  ghylls,  and 
threads  of  foam  that  wavered  in  the  wind  streaked 
the  crags.  In  the  bottom  of  the  valley  it  was  never 
really  light,  water  flowed  across  the  roads,  and  the 
low-standing  farmsteads  reeked  with  damp. 

All  this  was  not  unusual  and  the  dales  folk  would 
have  borne  it  patiently  had  fuel  not  been  short. 
Large  fires  were  needed  to  dry  the  moisture  that  con- 
densed in  the  flagged  kitchens  and  soaked  the  thick 
walls,  but  coal  could  not  be  got  at  a  price  the  house- 
wives were  willing  to  pay.  Some  would  have  had  to 
stint  their  families  in  food  had  they  bought  on  Bell's 
terms,  and  the  rest  struggled,  for  the  common  cause, 
against  the  mould  that  gathered  on  clothing  and  spoiled 
the  meal.  They  grumbled,  but  their  resolution  hard- 
ened as  the  strain  got  worse,  while  Bell  waited  rather 
anxiously  for  them  to  give  way. 

His  yards  were  full  and  more  coal  was  coming  in, 
but  he  saw  that  if  he  let  the  farmers  beat  him  his 
power  to  overcharge  them  another  time  would  be  gone. 
The  new  combine  was  dangerous,  since  the  coopera- 
tive plan  might  be  extended  to  the  purchase  of  chemical 
manures,  seed,  and  lime.  In  the  meantime,  there  was 
plenty  of  peat,  stacked  so  that  it  would  escape  much 
damage,  on  Malton  Head;  but  Askew  and  his  friends 

71 


72  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

could  not  get  it  down.  Carts  could  not  be  used  on 
the  fells  and  the  clumsy  wooden  sledges  the  farmers 
called  stone-boats  would  not  run  across  the  boggy 
moor.  The  few  loads  Kit  brought  down  at  the  cost 
of  heavy  labor  were  carried  off  by  anxious  house- 
wives as  soon  as  they  arrived. 

The  weather  was  helping  the  monopolist,  but  he 
could  not  tell  if  a  change  to  frost  would  be  an  ad- 
vantage or  not.  Although  it  w^ould  make  the  need 
for  coal  felt  keenly,  it  might  simplify  the  transport 
of  peat.  When  Bell  thought  about  it,  and  the  colliery 
company's  bills  came  in,  he  felt  disturbed,  but  he  was 
stubborn  and  would  not  lower  his  price  yet. 

At  length  the  rain  stopped,  and  after  a  heavy  fall 
of  snow  keen  frost  began.  The  white  fells  glittered 
in  cold  sunshine  that  only  touched  the  bottom  of  the 
dale  for  an  hour  or  two.  The  ice  on  the  tarn  was 
covered,  so  that  skating  was  impossible,  and  Thorn, 
feeling  the  need  for  amusement,  had  a  few  sledges 
made.  He  had  learned  something  about  winter  sports 
in  Switzerland,  and  one  afternoon  stood  with  a  party 
of  young  men  and  women  at  the  top  of  Malton  Head. 
They  had  practised  with  a  pair  of  skis  farther  down 
the  hill,  where  one  or  two  were  sliding  on  a  small  Swiss 
luge,  but  Thorn  wanted  to  find  a  long  run  for  his 
Canadian-pattern  toboggan. 

Grace  stood  near  him ;  her  face  touched  with  warm 
color  and  her  eyes  sparkling  as  she  looked  about.  She 
did  not  altogether  approve  of  Alan  Thorn,  but  she 
W'as  young  and  vigorous  and  enjoyed  the  sport.  Be- 
sides, she  loved  the  high  fells  and  now  they  looked  ma- 
jestic in  the  pale  sunshine.  They  were  not  all  white; 
dark  rocks  with  glittering  veins  edged  the  snowfield, 
and  the  scarred  face  of  Force  Crag  ran  down  where 
the  shoulder  of  the  moor  broke  off  four  hundred  feet 
below.  \A'here  the  sun  did  not  strike,  the  snow  was 
a  curious  delicate  gray,  and  the  bottom  of  the  dale  was 


GRACE  FINDS  A  WAY  73 

colored  an  ethereal  blue.  The  pale-gray  riband,  wind- 
ing in  a  graceful  curve  round  the  crag,  marked  the  old 
green  road  that  was  sometimes  used  for  bringing  down 
dry  fern,  and  Grace's  face  got  thoughtful  as  she  noted 
a  row  of  men  and  horses  some  distance  off.  She 
imagined  they  were  Askew  and  his  helpers. 

In  the  meantime,  Thorn  studied  her  with  artistic 
satisfaction.  He  had  an  eye  for  female  beauty  and 
the  girl  looked  very  well  in  her  rather  shabby  furs. 
Her  pose  was  light  and  graceful,  her  figure  finely 
modeled,  and  he  liked  the  glow  the  cold  had  brought 
to  her  skin.  Moreover,  he  liked  her  joyous  confidence 
when  they  tried  the  luge  on  a  risky  slide.  She  was 
as  steady-nerved  and  plucky  as  a  man,  and  was  marked 
by  a  fine  fastidiousness  that  did  not  characterize  other 
girls  he  knew. 

"  I  think  this  is  about  the  best  spot  we  have  seen," 
he  said.  "  The  drop  is  steep  but  regular,  although 
I  expect  we'll  be  breathless  when  we  get  to  the  bottom. 
Would  you  like  to  try?  If  not,  perhaps  somebody 
else  will  come." 

He  looked  at  the  others,  and  they  looked  at  the  white 
declivity.  It  was  much  longer  than  any  they  had 
gone  down,  and  a  girl  laughed. 

"  To  begin  with,  we'll  watch  you.  I  was  upset  on 
the  last  slide  and  it's  rather  a  long  way  to  roll  down 
to  the  dale." 

Grace  lay  down  on  a  cushion  with  her  head  just 
behind  the  toboggan's  curved  front;  Thorn  found 
room  farther  back,  with  his  legs  in  the  snow,  and 
amidst  some  laughter  and  joking  the  others  pushed 
them  off.  The  surface  was  hard,  and  for  a  time  the 
toboggan  ran  smoothly  and  steadily;  then  the  pace  got 
faster,  and  showers  of  snow  flew  up  like  spray.  It 
beat  into  Grace's  eyes  and  whipped  her  face,  until 
she  bent  her  head  in  the  shelter  of  the  curled  front. 

The  sharp  hiss  the  steel  runners  made  was  louder. 


74  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

the  wind  began  to  scream,  and  she  got  something  of 
a  shock  when  she  cautiously  looked  up.  It  was  hard 
to  see  through  the  snowy  spray,  but  the  top  of  the  crag 
looked  ominously  near.  Glancing  down  hill  with 
smarting  eyes,  she  thought  the  slope,  which,  from  the 
top,  had  seemed  to  fall  evenly  to  the  dale,  was  also 
inclined  towards  the  crag.  She  could  not  see  much 
of  the  latter,  but  there  was  a  fringe  of  dark  rock  where 
the  white  declivity  broke  off. 

"  Aren't  we  getting  too  near?  "  she  shouted. 

"  Nearer  than  I  thought,"  Thorn  gasped.  **  Not 
sure  I  can  swing  the  sledge.  Can  you  get  back  and 
help?" 

Grace  braced  herself.  Alan's  nerve  was  good,  but 
there  was  a  disturbed  note  in  his  voice;  besides  he 
would  not  have  askea  her  help  unless  it  was  needed. 
Wriggling  back  cautiously,  she  got  level  with  Thorn, 
although  there  was  not  much  room  for  them  side  by 
side.  Her  feet  and  the  seam  of  her  short  dress  brushed 
in  the  snow  and  tore  up  the  surface.  She  felt  the 
looser  stuff  beneath  foam  about  her  gaiters,  but  this 
was  an  advantage.  The  drag  would  help  to  stop  the 
sledge,  and  if  she  could  put  an  extra  pressure  on  one 
side,  to  some  extent  direct  it.  Still  they  w^ere  going 
very  fast  and  at  first  she  was  nearly  pulled  off.  She 
tightened  her  grasp  with  her  hands  until  she  felt  her 
gloves  split,  and  then  risked  another  glance  ahead. 

The  rocks  were  very  close,  but  the  sledge  had  passed 
the  top,  and  she  could  see  a  few  yards  down  the  dark 
side  as  they  followed  the  curving  edge  of  the  crag. 
The  sledge  was  now  running  nearly  straight  down  the 
hill,  but  the  curve  bent  in  towards  them,  and  she  could 
not  tell  if  they  would  shoot  past  the  widest  spot  or 
plunge  over. 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  let  go,"  Thorn  said 
hoarsely. 

Grace  shook  her  head.     If  she  dropped  off,  it  was 


GRACE  FINDS  A  WAY  75 

uncertain  whether  she  would  stop  until  she  had  rolled 
some  distance;  perhaps  she  might  not  stop  before  she 
reached  the  edge  of  the  crag.  Anyhow,  she  did  not 
mean  to  let  go,  and  tried  to  catch  the  snow  with  her 
toes  in  an  effort  to  help  Thorn  to  steer  the  sledge.  It 
swerved  a  little  but  rushed  on  again,  and  she  saw  that 
the  edge  of  the  rock  curved  in  yet.  She  doubted  if 
they  were  far  enough  off  to  get  past  the  bend. 

Then  she  saw  that  Thorn  had  slipped  farther  back 
in  order  to  increase  the  drag  of  his  legs.  His  face 
was  dark  with  blood  and  she  heard  his  heavy  breath- 
ing as  he  tried  to  change  their  course.  She  helped  all 
she  could  while  the  snow  rolled  across  her  dress,  and 
then  for  a  moment  lifted  her  head.  Powdered  snow 
beat  into  her  face  and  nearly  blinded  her,  but  she 
thought  there  was  now  an  unbroken  slant  in  front. 
They  must  have  passed  the  middle  of  the  bend,  al- 
though Thorn  was  between  her  and  the  side  on  which 
it  lay  and  she  was  not  sure  yet.  She  remembered  w^ith 
horrible  distinctness  how  she  had  once  stood  at  the 
bottom  of  the  crag  and  seen  a  stone  that  rolled  over 
the  top  smash  upon  the  rocks. 

"  Try  again !  "  Thorn  gasped.  "  Swing  her  to  the 
right!" 

Grace  let  her  body  slip  back.  The  thrust  and  drag 
were  telling,  for  the  sledge  had  swerved,  and  then  there 
came  a  few  seconds  of  keen  suspense.  After  this  she 
heard  Thorn  draw  a  labored  breath  and  felt  his  hand 
on  her  waist. 

"  We're  past.  Hitch  yourself  up  before  you're 
pulled  off,"  he  said. 

With  some  trouble  Grace  got  back  to  her  place  and 
lay  still,  while  her  heart  thumped  painfully  and  some- 
thing rang  in  her  ears.  The  reaction  had  begun  and 
she  knew  she  could  not  move  if  Thorn  wanted  help 
again.  It  looked,  however,  as  if  he  did  not,  and  some 
moments  afterwards  she  saw  that  the  way  was  clear 


76  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

ahead.  She  wondered  whether  they  would  stop  before 
they  reached  the  bottom  of  the  dale  and  how  far  it 
was.  The  round  sheepfold  in  the  first  field  looked 
no  larger  than  a  finger  ring.  She  was  getting  numb 
and  the  rush  of  bitter  air  took  away  her  breath. 

"  Hold  tight !  "  Thorn  shouted  presently  and  she 
noted  that  the  hillside  broke  off  not  far  in  front. 

Since  there  were  no  crags  near  the  spot,  it  was 
obvious  that  they  had  come  to  an  extra  steep  pitch, 
tne  brow  of  which  prevented  her  from  seeing  the  bot- 
tom. Next  moment  the  sledge  seemed  to  leave  the 
ground  and  leap  forward.  Grace  thought  that  for 
some  yards  they  traveled  through  the  air,  and  then  the 
hiss  of  the  runners  that  had  suddenly  stopped  became 
a  scream.  The  speed  was  bewildering  and  a  haze  of 
fine  snow  streamed  past.  By  and  by,  however,  this 
began  to  thin,  the  speed  slackened,  and  Thorn  gave  a 
warning  shout.  She  felt  him  try  to  turn  the  sledge, 
but  they  were  going  too  fast ;  the  light  frame  canted  and 
turned  over,  and  they  rolled  off  into  the  snow.  When 
Grace  got  up  and  shook  herself,  fifty  yards  lower  down, 
she  saw  Thorn  standing  by  the  righted  sledge.  He 
came  to  meet  her  as  she  toiled  back  and  his  eyes 
sparkled. 

"By  George!"  he  said,  "you  are  fine.  You're  a 
thorough  sport !  " 

Grace  colored.  The  compliment  was  obviously 
frank  and  not  premeditated;  perhaps  she  deserved  it, 
but  she  did  not  want  Thorn  to  praise  her.  His  man- 
ners were  good,  but  somehow  he  often  jarred.  He 
had  not,  within  her  memory,  said  anything  that  could 
justly  offend  her,  and  although  he  was  a  neighbor  and 
there  were  no  secrets  in  the  dale,  she  had  not  known 
him  do  a  shabby  thing.  Yet,  on  the  whole,  he  rather 
repelled  than  attracted  her.  She  studied  him  as  he 
came  down  the  hill. 

He  was  a  big,  handsome  man,  and  it  was,  of  course. 


GRACE  FINDS  A  WAY  77 

ridiculous  to  dislike  him  because  he  was  older  than  she 
and  was  getting  fat.  He  was  an  amusing  talker  and  a 
good  sportsman,  but  now  and  then  one  got  a  hint  of 
hardness  and  cunning.  Somehow,  so  to  speak,  he 
did  not  ring  true. 

"  I  held  on  because  I  thought  I  might  fall  over  the 
crag  if  I  let  go,"  she  said  with  a  laugh.  "  Then  as  I 
did  hold  on,  it  was  merely  prudent  to  try  to  steer  the 
sledge." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Thorn  agreed.  "  But  the  important 
thing  is  you  saw  this  and  didn't  lose  your  nerve,  x^ny- 
how,  if  you  had  lost  it,  I  couldn't  have  blamed  you; 
I  blame  myself  for  my  confounded  thoughtlessness 
that  let  you  run  the  risk.  In  fact,  I'm  dreadfully  sorry 
and  don't  mind  owning  that  I  got  a  fright." 

Grace  noted  that  he  was  rather  shaken,  and  felt 
vaguely  disturbed.  She  had  seen  him  following  the 
foxhounds  among  the  crags,  for  they  hunt  on  foot  in 
the  rugged  dales,  and  knew  his  steadiness  and  pluck. 
He  had  not  been  afraid  for  himself,  and  she  did  not 
want  him  to  be  afraid  for  her. 

"  After  all,"  she  said,  "  the  hill  seemed  to  run  down 
evenly  when  we  stood  at  the  top.  If  the  little  slant 
towards  the  crag  deceived  you,  it  deceived  me." 

"  I  know  more  about  tobogganing  and  oughtn't  to 
have  been  deceived.  It  hurts  to  feel  I  didn't  take 
proper  care  of  you." 

"  It  really  doesn't  matter,"  Grace  replied  with  a 
smile,  and  Thorn  gave  her  a  steady  look. 

"  Oh,  but  it  does  matter !     You  ought  to  see  that !  " 

"  I  don't  see  it,"  Grace  Insisted  quietly,  although 
her  heart  beat.  "  You  were  not  accountable,  and  we 
got  down  quite  safe.  Let's  talk  about  something 
else." 

Thorn's  eyes  rested  on  her  for  another  moment,  and 
then  he  made  a  sign  of  acquiescence  and  they  went 
back  up  the  hill.     At  the  top  he  marked  a  new  line  for 


78  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

the  next  day's  sport,  and  then  as  the  sun  was  getting 
low  the  party  started  home  by  the  old  stone-boat  road. 
Near  the  bottom  they  overtook  the  xA-skews,  and  one 
or  two  others  walking  at  their  horses'  heads  as  they 
cautiously  descended  a  steep  pitch.  Grace  noted 
that  although  they  were  not  bringing  much  peat  there 
was  a  risk  of  the  sledges  running  down  upon  the  teams. 

"  You  have  not  got  on  very  fast,''  she  said  to 
Peter. 

"If  we're  no  verra  careful,  we'll  gan  faster  than 
we  like." 

"  I  suppose  that's  why  vou're  onlv  taking  half  a 
load?" 

"  Just  that,"  Peter  agreed.  "  It  wadn't  suit  for  load 
to  run  ower  the  team.  Better  safe  than  sorry,  though 
it's  a  terrible  loss  o'  time." 

*'  Then,  why  don't  you  look  for  an  easier  way 
down?  " 

"  There's  only  the  oad  green  road.  Fellside's  ower 
steep  for  horses." 

"  Well,  if  I  can  think  of  a  better  way  I'll  tell  you," 
Grace  replied,  smiling,  and  hurried  on  after  the 
others. 

They  left  her  at  the  Tarnside  gate  and  she  stopped 
abruptly  as  she  went  up  the  drive.  It  had  obviously 
taken  Askew  a  long  time  to  bring  down  half  a  load 
because  of  the  risk  to  his  horses;  but  she  had  found 
a  better  plan.  It  was  not  needful  to  use  horses,  after 
they  had  pulled  the  sledges  up.  The  latter  could  be 
heavily  loaded  and  left  to  run  down  alone.  She  must 
tell  Kit  Askew  when  she  saw  him  next,  but  she  did 
not  reflect  that  it  was  curious  she  meant  to  tell  Kit  and 
not  Peter. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   PLAN    WORKS 

ALTHOUGH  the  air  was  bracingly  keen  the  after- 
noon was  calm  and  the  scattered  clouds  scarcely 
moved  across  the  sky.  The  snow  in  the  valley  shone 
a  delicate  gray,  and  soft  lights  and  shadows  rested  on 
the  hills.  A  peak  that  rose  above  the  edge  of  the  lofty 
moor  gleamed  pale-yellow  against  a  background  of 
deep  blue.  Grace  noted  the  tranquil  beauty  of  the 
landscape,  but  hesitated  now  and  then  as  she  climbed 
the  steep  road  out  of  the  dale. 

She  had  come  to  meet  Kit  Askew,  and  now  she  re- 
viewed her  reasons  for  doing  so  they  did  not  look  very 
sound.  In  fact,  if  Kit  approved  the  plan  she  meant 
to  suggest,  she  would  perhaps  be  meddling  unjustifiably 
with  her  father's  business.  After  all,  however,  it  was 
really  not  his  business.  He  had  allowed  himself  to  be 
persuaded  to  help  Hayes  and  the  latter's  accomplice, 
Bell,  without  quite  understanding  what  this  implied. 
Her  plan  would  prevent  his  doing  an  injustice  he  did 
not  really  mean  to  do. 

She  suspected  that  there  was  a  touch  of  sophistry 
about  her  arguments,  but  would  not  own  that  she  had 
come  because  she  wanted  to  meet  Kit.  It  was  neces- 
sary that  she  should  meet  him;  yet  when  she  stopped 
at  a  gate  and  heard  the  tramp  of  horses'  feet  behind, 
her  color  came  and  went.  For  all  that,  she  looked  very 
calm,  when  Kit  pulled  up  his  team,  and  went  forward 
to  open  the  gate.  He  made  an  abrupt  movement  as 
he  recognized  her,  but  his  eyes  shone  with  satisfaction. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  going  for  some  peat,"  she  said. 

79 


8o  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Kit  said  he  was,  and  added  that  Peter  and  two  or 
three  neighbors  were  loading  the  stone-boats  on  the 
moor. 

"  Then,  I  wonder  whether  you  could  let  me  have 
a  small  quantity  when  you  come  down?  " 

"  You  can  have  a  load  if  you  want," 

Grace  laughed.  "  Two  or  three  basketsful  would 
be  enougfe,  and  I  don't  want  them  for  myself.  I  went 
to  see  Mrs.  Waite  and  found  her  old  father  crippled  by 
rheumatian.  The  kitchen  was  cold  and  damp,  but  she 
had  a  very  little  fire.  She  said  her  coal  was  nearly 
gone  and  she  had  got  no  peat." 

*' TlKUik  you  for  telling  me;  I  didn't  know,"  said 
Kit.  **  I'll  take  her  a  sack  as  I  go  down  the  dale." 
He  paused  and  hesita<-ed,  with  his  hand  on  the  open 
gate.     "  But  it's  rather  cold.     Am  I  keeping  you  ?  " 

Grace  noted  \Adth  some  satisfaction  that  he  did  not 
seem  to  think  it  remarkable  she  had  met  him  at  the 
lonely  spot 

*'  Oh,  no,"  she  said.  "  I  am  going  up  the  hill.  I 
like  the  view  from  the  crag  and  sometimes  go  to  watch 
the  sunset  When  it  shines  over  the  shoulder  of  the 
Pike  it  throws  wonderful  lights  on  the  snow." 

Kit  agreed,  and  after  he  started  his  horses  they 
went  on  together.  By  and  by  Grace  resumed: 
"  When  I  met  you  yesterday,  your  father  said  the 
sledges  often  ran  down  too  fast  and  you  could  not 
put  up  a  proper  load." 

"  That  is  a  drawback.  You  see,  there's  plenty  peat 
cut;  the  trouble  is  to  bring  it  down.  After  the  heavy 
rain,  we  couldn't  drag  the  stone-boats  across  the  boggy 
moor,  and  although  the  snow  has  made  this  easy,  it 
hasn't  helped  much  otherwise.  If  we  put  up  a  big- 
load,  there's  some  danger  of  the  sledges  overtaking  and 
knocking  down  the  horses  where  the  track  is  steep." 

"  And  you  can't  see  a  way  of  getting  over  the  dif- 
ficulty?" 


THE  PLAN  WORKS  81 

Kit  said  he  could  not  and  Grace's  eyes  twin4c!ed. 

"  Then  I  can.  I'll  show  you  a  way,  if  you're  not 
too  proud  to  take  advice  from  a  girl." 

**  Certainly  not,"  Kit  said,  smiling.  "  I  don't  know 
•why  you  think  I'm  proud." 

**  Then  perhaps  you're  obstinate;  some  of  the  dales- 
folk  are." 

"  We're  slow.  We  like  to  try  things  proj)erlY ;  and 
then,  perhaps  we  stick  to  them  longer  than  is  needful  if 
we  find  them  good.     But  caution's  prudent." 

"  You're  very  cautious  now,"  •  Grace  rejoined. 
"  You  don't  seem  curious  about  my  plan.  Are  you 
afraid  it  isn't  practical  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Kit,  rather  earnestly;  "  since  it's  yours, 
it's  no  doubt  good."  Then  he  pulled  himself  up  and 
added  with  a  twinkle :     "  But  I  haven't  heard  it  yet." 

"  Well,  while  your  difficulty  is  that  the  peat  comes 
down  too  fast,  I  think  it  does  not  go  fast  enough. 
You  are  afraid  about  your  horses,  but  you  needn't  use 
them.  The  stone-boats  would  run  down  alone.  Do 
you  understand  now?  " 

Kit  started.  "  I  expect  you  have  found  the  way, 
Miss  Osborn,  and  we  owe  you  some  thanks.  In  fact, 
you're  cleverer  than  the  lot !  " 

"  The  admission  doesn't  seem  to  hurt  you,"  Grace 
rejoined.  "  But  I  imagine  to  feel  you  had  to  make  it 
was  something  of  a  shock." 

"  No,"  said  Kit,  with  a  laugh  she  liked.  "  We're 
often  dull  and  our  womenfolk  have  helped  us  much. 
But  somehow  I  did  not  expect  — " 

He  stopped,  and  Grace  gave  him  a  level  glance. 

"  You  mean  you  did  not  expect  help  from  me?  " 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  I  did  mean  something 
like  that." 

"  Then  I'm  glad  you  owned  it,  because  it  allows 
me  to  clear  the  ground.  I  don't  want  poor  people  to  be 
cold  in  winter  in  order  that  Bell  may  get  rich.     Neither 


82  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

does  my  father  want  it  —  you  must  believe  this !  He 
doesn't  know  all  that  goes  on ;  Hayes  hides  things  from 
him.  There  is  no  reason  I  shouldn't  help  you  to  spoil 
Bell's  plot." 

Kit  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  The  girl  had 
pluck  and  he  liked  her  frankness.  She  was  trying  to 
persuade  herself  Osborn  was  not  unjust,  and,  although 
he  imagined  she  found  it  hard,  he  did  not  mean  to 
make  it  harder.     One  must  respect  her  staunchness. 

'*  Bell  is  our  real  antagonist  and  he's  an  awkward 
man  to  beat,"  he  said.  "  However,  the  hint  you  have 
given  us  ought  to  be  useful.  I'll  look  for  a  way  down 
when  we  get  to  the  top." 

Grace  warned  him  about  the  inclination  of  the  hill- 
side to  the  rocks  and  stopped  at  the  bottom  of  the 
crag. 

"  I  think  I'll  go  across  the  hill  and  watch  the  first 
sledge  come  dov;n,  if  you're  not  too  long,"  she  said 
and  paused  for  a  moment.  "  Perhaps  you  needn't 
tell  the  others  it  was  my  plan." 

Kit  said  he  would  not  do  so  and  was  strangely  satis- 
fied as  he  went  on  with  his  horses.  He  understood  her 
hesitation;  it  was  delightful  to  feel  that  she  had  given 
him  her  confidence  and  they  shared  a  secret.  At  the 
top,  he  found  the  others  had  loaded  the  sledges  and  were 
ready  to  start.  Since  the  dalesfolk  are  conservative, 
he  had  expected  some  opposition  to  his  plan,  but  they 
listened  attentively  and  an  old  man  supported  him. 

"  I  mind  hearing  my  father  say  that  yan  hard  winter 
after  a  wet  back  end  o'  year,  they  let  peat  run  doon 
t'  fell.     What  has  been  done  yance  can  be  done  again." 

Kit  said  nothing;  for  the  other,  by  using  a  favorite 
motto,  had  banished  his  companions'  dislike  of  novel- 
ties. 

"  It  was  deeun  no'  so  long  sin',"  another  remarked. 
"  In  my  time,  they  browt  slate  doon  on  t'  stane-boats 


THE  PLAN  WORKS  83 

across  the  Fleet-pike  scree.  Pushed  them  off  at  top 
and  let  them  go/' 

There  was  some  further  talk  and  when  they  re- 
solved to  make  the  experiment  Kit  w'ent  down  the  hill. 
He  said  he  wanted  to  see  how  the  first  sledge  crossed 
an  awkward  pitch,  but  it  counted  for  much  that  he 
saw  a  small  figure  below.  Grace  looked  satisfied  with 
his  excuse  for  joining  her  and  they  waited  for  a  time 
while  the  men  above  moved  the  first  load  to  the  edge. 
The  sunshine  had  gone  and  it  was  getting  cold;  the 
shadows  in  the  dale  had  faded  from  blue  to  dusky 
gray  and  the  frost  was  keen.  All  was  very  quiet,  but 
now  and  then  distant  voices  and  the  musical  rattle  of 
chains  came  down  through  the  nipping  air. 

"  It  will  be  dark  before  they're  ready  if  they're  not 
quick,"  said  Kit,  and  Grace  looked  up  the  hill. 

"  I  think  they're  starting  the  sledge.  If  there  had 
been  nobody  about,  I  would  have  liked  to  come  down 
with  the  peat.  You  can't  imagine  how  exciting  it 
is." 

They  watched  the  sledge  slip  over  the  brow  of  the 
descent.  It  got  larger  as  it  came  down,  but  it  did  not 
run  as  fast  as  the  toboggan.  One  could  see  it  rock 
and  swerve,  shaking  off  loose  peats,  where  the  ground 
was  broken,  and  Grace  glanced  at  the  steep  pitch  Kit 
had  come  to  watch. 

"  It  will  go  down  there  with  a  splendid  rush,  but  I 
don't  think  it  will  upset,"  she  said.  "  My  plan  is  going 
to  work." 

The  sledge  got  nearer.  They  saw  the  snow  fly  up 
about  its  front  and  heard  the  scream  the  runners  made. 
There  was  something  fascinating  about  its  smooth  but 
fast  descent,  and  as  it  approached  the  top  of  the  dip 
they  moved  back  rather  unwillingly  to  let  it  pass. 
When  it  was  nearly  level  with  them  it  slowed  on  the 
changing  incline  and  Grace  noted  that  there  was  a 


84  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

narrow  space  between  the  back  of  the  frame  and  the 
peat.  She  gave  Kit  a  quick  look  as  she  said,  "If  one 
wanted,  I  think  one  could  jump  on." 

"Let's  try!"  said  Kit  impulsively,  and  they  ran 
forward. 

He  reached  the  sledge  first,  and  throwing  himself 
down  held  out  his  hand  to  Grace,  who  fell  upon  the 
runner  log.  Kit  pulled  her  up  and  although  the  light 
was  going  saw  her  face  glow  after  the  effort  she  had 
made.  Her  eyes  sparkled  with  excitement,  but  Kit 
felt  half  embarrassed  because  he  did  not  know  whether 
he  had  persuaded  her  to  venture  on  an  undignified  ad- 
venture or  she  had  persuaded  him.  It  was  a  relief  to 
hear  her  laugh. 

"  This  is  rather  ridiculous,  and  I  don't  know  if  we 
can  hold  on,"  she  said  as  she  tried  to  grasp  the  shaking 
peat. 

The  sledge  ran  faster  and  lurched  violently  as  it 
plunged  over  the  edge  of  the  steep  drop.  A  shower 
of  peat  fell  on  them,  the  speed  got  furious,  and  they 
heard  the  runners  scream,  but  they  were  sheltered  from 
the  rush  of  wind  and  could  not  see  ahead.  After  a  few 
moments  Grace  looked  up  with  twinkling  eyes. 

"  You  could  drop  off  if  you  liked.  Are  you  sorry 
you  came?" 

"  No,"  said  Kit.  "  I  came  because  I  wanted,  and 
now  I'm  here  I'll  stop." 

"  I  really  think  you  mean  to  be  nice,"  Grace  rejoined 
with  amusement  and  Kit  understood;  she  saw  he  did 
not  mean  to  admit  that  she  had  suggested  the  adven- 
ture, but  this  was  not  important.  It  was  something  of 
an  adventure  for  a  girl  like  Miss  Osborn,  although  her 
having  embarked  on  it  gave  him  a  delightful  feeling  of 
partnership  in  a  harmless  folly. 

"  I  hope  there's  nothing  in  the  way,"  he  said. 
"  We're  going  very  fast  and  Hindbeck  farm  can't  be 
far  off.     I  ought  to  have  looked  before  we  jumped. 


THE  PLAN  WORKS  85 

"  It  is  too  late  now,"  Grace  answered  with  an  ex- 
cited laugh.  "  I  imagine  you're  not  as  cautious  as 
you  think;  but  we  won't  talk.  It's  hard  to  hold  on 
and  I  haven't  much  breath." 

Kit  moved  nearer  and,  seizing  the  edge  of  the  frame, 
put  his  arm  round  her  waist.  She  did  not  seem  to 
resent  this,  and  for  a  time  they  sped  down  hill  with 
their  feet  plowing  through  the  snow.  Kit  did  not  care 
how  long  the  swift  rush  lasted,  but  by  and  by  he  began 
to  get  anxious.  The  sledge  had  gone  a  long  way 
since  they  jumped  on,  and  the  hillside  was  steep  to  the 
bottom,  where  it  met  the  Hindbeck  pastures.  While 
he  wondered  whether  Grace  would  slide  far  and  get 
shaken  if  he  made  her  let  go,  the  sledge  tilted  up.  It 
stopped  with  a  violent  shock,  he  heard  stones  fall, 
and  was  thrown  off  amidst  a  shower  of  peat.  When 
he  got  up  Grace  was  sitting  in  the  snow  some  distance 
off  and  he  ran  towards  her.  She  had  lost  her  small 
fur  cap  and  her  hair  was  loose,  but  to  his  relief  she 
laughed. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  it  really  was  ridiculous !  But  the 
plan  will  work.     The  peat  will  run  down !  " 

**  That  is  so,"  Kit  agreed,  with  a  breathless  chuckle. 
"^  I  think  it  would  have  run  into  the  Hindbeck  kitchen 
but  for  the  wall." 

"  Then  it  was  a  wall  that  stopped  us.  It  felt  like  a 
rock." 

"  Come  and  see,"  said  Kit,  holding  out  his  hand  to 
help  her  up. 

*'  I  think,"  she  said,  "  I'd  rather  you  looked  for  my 
hat." 

He  went  off  and  it  was  two  or  three  minutes  before 
he  found  the  hat  among  the  scattered  peat.  When  he 
came  back  it  was  nearly  dark,  but  Grace's  hair  was  no 
longer  untidy,  and  the  snow  that  had  smeared  her 
clothes  had  gone.  She  walked  with  him  to  where  the 
sledge  rested  on  a  pile  of  stones,  and  looking  through 


86  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

the  gap,  they  saw  a  woman  with  a  lantern  cross  a 
narrow  pasture  between  them  and  a  house. 

"What's  t'  matter?"  the  woman  shouted  and 
turned  round.  "  Janet,  gan  on  and  see  what's  brokken 
t'  wa'." 

Another  figure  came  out  of  the  gloom  and  Grace 
looked  at  Kit. 

"  I  don't  know  whjD  Janet  is,  but  I  do  know  Mrs. 
Creighton.  She  talks,"  she  said.  "If  you'll  stop  and 
explain  matters,  I'll  go  down  the  lonning.  It  was  a 
glorious  adventure !     Good-night !  " 

She  stole  away  round  the  corner  of  the  wall  and 
Kit,  who  understood  that  he  was,  so  to  speak,  to  cover 
her  retreat,  waited  until  the  two  women  came  up.  The 
one  who  carried  the  lantern  was  fat  and  homely;  the 
other  was  slender  and  looked  like  Janet  Bell. 

"  It's  Kit,  an'  stane-boat  stucken  in  t'  wa' !  "  said  the 
first  as  she  held  up  the  light.  "  But  where's  team  ? 
An'  hoo  did  you  get  here?  There's  nea  road  this 
way." 

Kit  laughed.  "  It's  lucky  I  left  the  horses  at  the 
top.  This  is  a  new  plan  for  bringing  down  the  peat 
and  it  certainly  works,  although  next  time  we  must  try 
to  stop  a  little  sooner." 

Mrs.  Creighton  asked  him  some  questions  before  she 
understood  what  had  happened.  He  was  in  the  light, 
because  she  had  put  the  lantern  on  the  wall,  and  al- 
though he  could  not  see  her  companion's  face,  he  sus- 
pected from  Janet's  quietness  that  she  was  studying 
him. 

"  Then  you  left  the  others  on  the  moor,"  the  girl 
remarked. 

"  I  did,"  said  Kit.  "  We  sent  the  stone-'ooat  off  by 
itself,  and  it  was  half-way  down  when  I  jumped  on." 

"  Then  none  of  the  men  came  with  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Kit,  who  felt  annoyed  because  he  saw 


THE  PLAN  WORKS  87 

Janet  suspected  something.  "  I  went  down  to  watch 
the  sledge  and  see  if  we  had  hit  the  best  track." 

"  It's  strange!  "  said  Janet.  "  I  thought  there  was 
somebody  else  when  I  first  came  out.  Still,  of  course, 
it  was  nearly  dark." 

Kit  was  puzzled  because  he  could  not  tell  how  much 
Janet  had  really  seen,  and  thought  the  situation  needed 
careful  handling.  If  she  knew  Miss  Osborn  had  been 
with  him,  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  make  the  thing  look 
significant  by  pretending  that  she  had  not;  but  it  was 
possible  that  Janet  did  not  know.  Then  Grace  had 
hinted  that  she  did  not  want  their  adventure  talked 
about. 

"  I  don't  expect  you  could  see  very  well  if  you  had 
just  come  out  from  the  light  in  the  kitchen,"  he  replied. 
"  Anyhow,  none  of  the  men  came  with  me  and  I  must 
go  back  and  tell  them  not  to  send  off  another  lot. 
We'll  see  about  mending  your  wall  to-morrow,  Mrs. 
Creighton." 

He  went  off  to  a  gate  that  opened  into  the  lonning. 
This  was  the  wisest  plan,  because  he  did  not  want  to 
talk  to  Janet.  He  was  half  afraid  of  her,  but  not 
because  he  thought  she  sympathized  with  her  father's 
plots;  it  was  known  that  Bell  and  his  daughter  quar- 
reled. The  girl  was  a  dangerous  coquette  and  had 
tactfully  hinted  that  she  rather  approved  Kit.  This 
had  alarmed  Kit,  who  knew  she  was  clever  and  resolute. 

When  he  reached  the  lane  he  stopped  abruptly  as  he 
remembered  something,  and  took  out  his  gipe,  although 
he  did  not  mean  to  smoke.  He  must  be  cautious,  since 
he  was  not  sure  if  Janet  had  gone  in.  Striking  a 
match,  he  held  it  between  his  hands  as  if  he  were  going 
to  light  his  pipe  and  stooped  in  the  shelter  of  a  wall. 

The  light  shone  on  the  ground  and  he  knitted  his 
brows  as  he  saw  sharp  footsteps  in  the  snow.  The 
farm  people  did  not  wear  boots  that  would  leave  marks 


88  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

like  these ;  moreover,  the  footsteps  would  lead  anybody 
who  thought  it  worth  while  to  follow  them  to  the  spot 
where  the  sledge  upset.  Kit  threw  down  the  match, 
and  frowned  as  he  went  on  again. 


CHAPTER  X 

JANET    MEDDLES 

BRIGHT  moonlight  sparkled  on  the  snow  when  Kit 
left  Ashness  to  post  some  letters  he  had  written 
ordering  new  machines.  He  was  young,  but  since  he 
came  home  Peter  had  allowed  much  of  the  business  of 
the  farm  to  fall  into  his  hands.  Kit's  judgment  was 
sound ;  he  had  studied  modern  methods  at  the  agricul- 
tural college  and  was  progressive  without  being  rash. 
For  the  most  part,  his  experiments  had  paid,  and  Peter 
sometimes  thought  the  lad's  talents  were  wasted  in  the 
quiet  dale.  Kit  had  ability,  particularly  for  manage- 
ment. Then,  although  he  was  rather  reserved,  people 
trusted  him  and  often  asked  his  advice. 

Peter  knew  Kit  was  satisfied  to  stay  at  Ashness ;  but, 
for  all  that,  if  the  lad  felt  he  wanted  a  wider  field  for 
his  energies  later,  he  would  not  stand  in  his  way.  The 
time  might  come  when  he  must  let  him  go,  for  Peter 
had  a  brother  who  had  got  rich  in  America  and  was 
willing  to  give  his  nephew  a  start.  Indeed,  Adam  had 
written  again  not  long  since,  asking  if  Peter  was  going 
to  send  him.  It  was  a  relief  when  Kit  laughed  and 
declared  that  he  did  not  mean  to  leave  Ashness  yet. 

When  he  passed  Allerby  mill  Kit  looked  about. 
Icicles  covered  the  idle  wheel,  a  snow  cornice  hung  over 
the  flagged  roof,  and  water  splashed  softly  in  the  half- 
frozen  race.  Farther  on,  the  snowy  road  was  check- 
ered by  the  shadows  of  hedges  and  bare  trees.  Low 
roofs,  touched  by  hoar-frost,  rose  behind  the  trunks, 
and  here  and  there  a  gleam  of  yellow  light  shone  out. 

89 


90  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

The  road,  however,  was  empty,  as  Kit  was  relieved  to 
note. 

He  had  once  or  twice  recently,  when  he  went  to  the 
post  in  the  evening,  met  Janet  Bell  coming  from  the 
little  shop  in  the  village.  In  fact,  the  thing  began  to 
look  significant.  Kit  was  sorry  for  Janet,  because 
Bell's  rule  was  harsh  and  his  neighbors  extended  their 
dislike  for  him  to  his  family.  All  the  same,  Kit  did  not 
trust  the  girl  and  would  sooner  she  left  him  alone.  He 
might  be  taking  too  much  for  granted,  but  romantic 
pity  was  a  treacherous  guide;  Janet  was  pretty  and 
clever,  and  he  was  human.  He  had  thought  about 
changing  the  time  he  went  to  the  post,  but  felt  it  would 
be  cowardly.  Besides,  he  was  occupied  all  day  and 
letters  could  not  be  written  until  the  outside  work  was 
done,  while  a  postman  called  at  Allerby  early  in  the 
morning. 

There  was,  however,  nobody  about  and  for  a  minute 
or  two  Kit  went  on  at  a  quick  pace.  He  passed  Bell's 
house,  and  then  hesitated  with  a  frown  as  a  tigure  he 
thought  he  knew  came  round  a  bend  in  front.  Close 
by,  the  tall  hedgerow  was  broken  by  a  stile,  from  which 
a  path  led  across  a  field  and  joined  the  road  farther  on. 
He  was  in  the  moonlight  and  if  he  vanished  the  thing 
would  look  too  marked.  Moreover,  there  would  be 
something  ridiculous  about  his  running  away. 

Kit  went  forward,  wondering  whether  Janet  had 
noted  his  hesitation,  and  she  stopped  him  near  a  big 
ash-tree.  The  shadow  of  the  branches  made  a  black, 
open  pattern  on  the  snow  and  a  belt  of  gloom  lay  behind 
the  wide  trunk.  Kit  would  sooner  Janet  had  stopped 
in  the  moonlight,  since  the  villagers  often  went  to  the 
shop  and  post  in  the  evening,  and  his  standing  in  the 
shadow  gave  a  hint  of  secrecy  to  the  accidental  meet- 
ing.    He  thought  it  strange  that  Janet  did  not  see  this. 

"You  were  walking  fast,"  she  said.  **  I  believe 
you'd  have  gone  by  if  I  hadn't  spoken." 


JANET  MEDDLES  91 

*'  The  frost  is  sharp  enough  to  make  one  move 
briskly  and  I've  something  to  do  when  I  get  back." 

"Busy  lad!"  said  Janet,  in  a  mocking  voice. 
"  You're  always  in  a  hurry,  Kit.  I  suppose  Peter 
works  you  hard?  " 

"  He  says  I  work  him  harder  than  he  likes,"  Kit  re- 
plied, smiling.  "  Perhaps  the  truth  is  he  lets  me  have 
my  way." 

"  You're  lucky,"  Janet  remarked  with  a  sigh.  "  It's 
nice  to  be  able  to  do  what  you  like.  There's  only  one 
way  at  the  Mill  house,  and  that's  father's.  But  I  sup- 
pose you  agree  with  him  that  women's  ideas  don't 
count?" 

"  I  daresay  their  ideas  are  as  sound  as  ours,  but  I 
don't  know  much  about  it.  We  have  no  women  except 
old  Bella  and  the  dairymaid  at  Ashness." 

"  And  you  never  miss  them  ?  In  that  big,  lonely 
house !  " 

Kit  mused  for  a  moment.  Sometimes,  particularly 
on  summer  evenings  when  they  did  not  light  the  lamps 
and  the  shadows  of  the  fells  rested  on  the  old  building, 
Ashness  was  lonely  and  drearily  quiet.  He  had 
thought  now  and  then  the  difference  would  be  marked 
if  a  woman's  laugh  rang  through  the  dim  rooms  and  a 
graceful  figure  sat  by  the  hearth.  Still,  his  imagina- 
tion had  not  pictured  Janet  there. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "  we're  out  all  day  and  when 
we  come  home  there  are  letters  to  write  and  books  to 
read." 

"  Letters  and  books !  "  said  Janet.  "  Kit,  I  wonder 
if  you're  quite  alive."  Then  she  laughed,  provoca- 
tively. "  Anyhow,  you  don't  seem  to  know  when 
you're  given  a  chance  of  being  nice." 

Kit  did  not  answer  and  wished  she  would  let  him 
go.  He  felt  awkward  and  thought  Janet  knew  this,  for 
she  resumed :  "  However,  one  mustn't  expect  too 
much  and  you  want  to  get  back.     It's  a  habit  of  yours. 


92  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

You  were  in  a  hurry  to  get  away  the  last  time  I  saw 
you,  when  the  stone-boat  broke  Creighton's  wall." 

"  I'd  been  at  work  since  morning  in  the  snow." 

"  And  Miss  Osborn  was  waiting  for  you  in  the 
lonning?  " 

"  No,"  said  Kit  sharply;  "  she  was  not." 

"  Anyhow  she  was  with  you,  before  she  stole  away." 

"  She  didn't  steal  away,"'  Kit  began  indignantly,  but 
hesitated.  Now  he  came  to  think  about  it,  Grace  had 
gone  as  quietly  as  possible. 

"  You  mean  Miss  Osborn  does  nothing  undignified  ? 
For  all  that,  she  didn't  want  Mrs.  Creighton  to  see  her. 
I  don't  suppose  Osborn  would  be  pleased  to  know  his 
daughter  and  you  went  for  moonlight  walks  on  the 
fells." 

Kit  knew  Osborn  would  not  like  it,  and  since  the 
dales  folk  are  fond  of  gossip  saw  he  must  stop  the 
story  going  round. 

"  I  had  not  gone  for  a  walk  with  Miss  Osborn.  I 
met  her  as  I  came  down  from  the  moor.  She  didn't 
know  I  was  coming." 

"  So  she  wasn't  waiting  for  you?  "  Janet  remarked, 
with  a  hint  of  mockery.  She  stopped,  and  putting  her 
hand  on  Kit's  arm,  pushed  him  nearer  the  hedgerow 
as  a  man  and  woman  came  round  a  neighboring  corner. 

Kit  was  annoyed,  but  he  waited  and  watched  the 
people  as  they  passed.  The  shadow  was  not  very  dark 
and  he  thought  the  woman  give  him  a  curious  glance. 
He  knew  her  and  imagined  that  she  knew  him.  When 
the  people  went  through  a  gate  Janet  laughed. 

"  That  was  very  unlucky,  Kit !  Old  Nanny's  fond 
of  talking;  I'm  afraid  your  character  is  gone." 

Kit  frowned.  He  did  not  see  much  humor  in  the 
situation,  although  Janet  was  amused. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  you  are  dull !  I  expect  you 
couldn't  be  nice  if  you  tried.  But  we  were  talking 
about  Miss  Osborn.     You  were  not  riding  on  the 


JANET  MEDDLES  93 

stone-boat  when  you  met  her.  I  don't  suppose  you 
could  have  stopped  it." 

'*  No,"  said  Kit,  shortly,  "  I  was  not." 

"  But  I  saw  you  and  somebody  else  hardly  a  minute 
after  the  stone-boat  hit  the  wall." 

"  You  saw  me." 

"  I  did,"  said  Janet.  "  The  snow  was  sticking  to 
your  clothes  as  if  you  had  fallen,  and  you  looked  angry 
when  Mrs.  Creighton  put  the  lantern  on  the  wall."  She 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  went  on :  "  I  begin  to  see ; 
you  did  come  down  on  the  stone-boat  and  Miss  Osbom 
came  with  you.  You  were  both  thrown  off  by  the 
upset  at  the  wall.  Well,  if  you  persuaded  her  to  join 
you  in  an  adventure  like  that,  it  looks  as  if  you  were 
pretty  good  friends." 

Kit  said  nothing.  In  a  sense,  Miss  Osborn  had  per- 
suaded him,  and  it  was  difficult  to  explain  that  both 
had  really  given  way  to  a  rash  impulse.  Somewhat  to 
his  surprise,  Janet  gently  touched  his  arm. 

"  Be  careful,  Kit !  I  wouldn't  like  to  see  you  hurt. 
Miss  Osborn's  friends  are  not  your  kind  of  folk;  she 
only  wants  to  amuse  herself  when  they  are  not  about." 

"  That's  ridiculous,"  Kit  declared.  "  Miss  Osborn 
is  not  amusing  herself  with  me." 

"  Perhaps  you  ought  to  know,"  Janet  rejoined  with 
some  dryness.  "  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  you're 
not  always  very  bright.  Anyhow,  when  she  finds  the 
game  tiresome,  she'll  soon  get  rid  of  you." 

"  I  meet  Miss  Osborn  now  and  then  and  sometimes 
she  stops  and  speaks  .     That  is  all,"  Kit  said  sternly. 

'*  I  imagine  it's  enough,"  Janet  remarked.  "  Well, 
I  don't  want  to  see  you  made  to  look  a  fool;  you're 
rather  a  good  sort.  Kit,  if  you're  not  very  clever.  Be 
careful  and  remember  you  have  been  warned." 

She  gave  him  a  friendly  nod  and  went  off,  but  after 
a  few  moments  turned  and  looked  back.  Kit  was 
walking  down  the  road  with  swift  angry  strides.     Janet 


94  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

smiled,  but  when  she  entered  the  mill-house  kitchen  her 
face  was  flushed.  Soon  after  she  sat  down  by  the  fire, 
Bell  came  in  and  leaned  against  the  table  with  an  angry 
frown. 

"  There's  two  mair  trucks  o'  coal,  and  I  canna  find 
room  for  t'  stutT,"  he  said.  "  Yards  is  full  and  I  only 
sold  three  or  four  car  loads  last  week." 

Janet  knew  silence  was  prudent  when  her  father  was 
disturbed,  but  he  had  given  her  a  lead.  Kit  was  a 
fool,  and  although  she  doubted  if  he  were  as  dull  as  he 
pretended,  she  was  angry  with  him.  Anyhow,  it  might 
be  possible  to  stop  his  ridiculous  infatuation  for  Miss 
Osborn. 

"  You  can't  sell  coal  when  the  Askews  are  giving 
peat  away."  she  said. 

"  Looks  like  that,"  Bell  agreed.  "  I'd  ha'  broke  the 
others  before  noo  if  I  hadn't  had  Peter  and  Kit  against 
me.  Hooiver,  if  I  canna  sell  coal,  I  canna  pay  the 
rent  and  landlord  will  have  to  do  something.  May- 
happen  it  will  be  easier  for  him  if  he  kens  the  Askews 
started  the  plot.     Osborn's  none  too  fond  of  them." 

"  He  wouldn't  like  them  any  better  if  he  knew  what 
I  know,"  Janet  remarked  with  a  malicious  smile. 

"  What  do  you  ken  about  them?  "  Bell  asked  scorn- 
fully. 

"  I  don't  imagine  Osborn  wants  Kit  for  his  son-in- 
law." 

Bell  started  and  then  laughed  harshly. 

"  Old  wives'  crack !     Kit's  not  such  a  fool !  " 

"  You  know  best,"  said  Janet.  "  If  you  like,  I'll 
tell  you  what  I've  seen." 

She  did  so  and  Bell's  mean  face  got  thoughtful.  On 
the  whole,  Janet  did  not  exaggerate  much,  although 
she  now  and  then  made  a  rather  unwarranted  implica- 
tion. She  threw  a  fresh  light  on  matters  the  gossips 
already  talked  about ;  among  others  were  Grace's  visit 
to  Mireside  the  morning  Railton's  sheep  were  counted 


JANET  MEDDLES  95 

and  her  meeting  with  Kit  before  he  went  to  look  for  the 
Herdwicks.     When  she  stopped  Bell  knitted  his  brows. 

"If  it  was  used  right,  I  might  mak'  some  use  o' 
this,"  he  observed.  "We'll  see  what  Osborn  says  about 
coal  yards  and  the  alterations  at  mill." 

He  went  to  his  office  and  Janet  sat  quietly  by  the  fire. 
Her  plot  would  work;  Miss  Osborn  should  not  have 
Kit. 

Bell  made  some  calculations.  His  money  was  get- 
ting short;  he  had  bills  to  pay,  and  his  stock  of  coal 
was  large.  He  could  not  hold  it  much  longer,  and 
since  the  Askews  were  bringing  down  large  quantities 
of  peat,  there  was  no  ground  for  imagining  the  dales- 
folk  would  give  way.  It  looked  as  if  he  must  meet 
them  and  he  wrote  a  notice  that  coal  would  be  delivered 
by  the  trailer  lurry  at  a  reduction  of  two-and-six  a  ton. 

When  he  had  put  this  in  an  envelope  for  the  printers, 
Bell  knitted  his  brows.  Although  his  neighbors  would 
sooner  burn  coal  than  peat,  he  was  not  sure  the  reduc- 
tion would  stimulate  the  demand  for  the  former  and  he 
must  look  for  relief  in  some  other  direction.  He  paid 
a  high  rent  for  the  yards  and  the  landlord  ought  to 
help.  Osborn  would,  no  doubt,  be  reluctant,  but  he 
might  be  forced.  Bell's  lease  of  the  mill  would  soon 
run  out ;  nobody  else  could  pay  as  much  as  he  paid,  and 
he  would  demand  certain  expensive  alterations.  Fur- 
thermore, Osborn  did  not  like  the  Askews,  and  Bell 
imagined  he  saw  how  to  strike  a  blow  at  Kit ;  Janet  had 
shown  him  the  way.  It  would  be  some  satisfaction  to 
punish  the  meddlesome  fellow. 

Two  days  afterwards  the  notice  was  fixed  on  the 
gateposts,  but  a  week  went  by  without  its  attracting 
fresh  customers.  Then  a  bill  from  the  colliery  arrived 
and  Bell  put  down  his  price  another  two-and-six.  For 
a  day  or  two,  no  orders  came  in,  and  he  resolved  to 
wait  until  the  week  was  out  and  then,  if  needful,  get 
Hayes  to  arrange  for  a  meeting  with  Osborn. 


96  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

On  the  last  evening  of  the  week,  a  number  of  the  co- 
operators  met  in  the  kitchen  at  Ashness  and  for  a  time 
talked  about  the  weather  and  the  price  of  sheep. 
Askew  let  them  talk  and  Kit  was  too  preoccupied  to 
give  them  a  lead.  He  had  been  thoughtful  since  he 
met  Janet  Bell,  for  she  had  banished  the  self-deception 
he  had  unconsciously  used  and  thrown  a  new  and  dis- 
turbing light  on  his  friendship  with  Grace.  Ridiculous 
as  it  was  in  many  ways,  he  was  falling  in  love  with 
Grace  Osborn.  Moreover,  he  had  met  her  an  hour 
since  and  she  had  talked  with  a  friendly  confidence  that 
made  his  heart  beat.  The  girl  liked  and  trusted  him, 
and  although  he  durst  not  look  for  more,  this  in 
itself  was  much.  It  was  plain  that  he  ought  to 
conquer  his  infatua^^'on,  but  he  doubted  if  he 
could. 

Listening  to  the  others  mechanically,  he  was  silent 
and  absorbed  imtil  one  asked,  "  Weel,  what's  to  be  done 
aboot  coal  noo?     Are  we  gan  t'  buy?  " 

"  I  dinna  ken,"'  said  another.  "  My  womenfolk  are 
grumelling  an*  it's  lang  sin'  we  had  good  light  bread, 
but  they're  none  for  letting  Bell  have  his  way." 

"  He's  come  doon  five  shillings,  and  we've  peat 
enough  to  fall  back  on  if  he  puts  up  price  again,"  some- 
body else  remarked.  "  Hooiver,  I  reckon  he's  forced 
to  sell  and  we  might  get  anither  half-croon  off  if  we 
wait." 

Peter  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth.  "  It's  a  kittle 
point.  T'  womenfolk  have  been  patient  and  Bell  canna 
rob  us  much  if  we  buy  from  him  noo.  Aw  t'  same,  we 
can  beat  him  doon  some  shillings  if  we  hoad  on." 

"  Then  hoad  on  and  break  the  grasping  skinflint !  " 
said  one  of  the  younger  men. 

"  I  doot  if  we  can  break  him  and  wadn't  say  it's 
wise  to  try.  If  he'll  come  down  anither  shilling,  I 
think  we  might  tak'  his  coal.  That  wad  be  a  just  price 
and  we  ought  to  be  satisfied." 


JANET  MEDDLES  97 

"  Let  him  smart!  "  urged  the  other.  "  He's  robbed 
us  lang  enough." 

"  Well,"  said  Peter  thoughtfully,  "  I  dinna  ken  if 
that's  a  reason  for  robbing  him,  and  it's  sometimes 
safer  no  to  push  your  enemy  over  hard  when  he's 
willing  to  give  in.  You  must  choose.  If  you  hoad 
on  and  force  him  to  sell  at  a  big  loss,  the  fight  can  only 
end  in  yan  o'  two  ways.  He'll  mak'  you  pay  top  price 
for  cattle  food,  lime,  and  patent  manures;  or  you'll 
drive  him  oot  o'  dale.  You  must  reckon  if  you're 
strong  enough." 

"  We'll  hear  what  Kit  says,"  one  of  the  rest  re- 
marked. 

Kit's  mood  was  hardly  normal.  He  was  not  often 
rash,  but  he  felt  sore  and  rebellious  and  this  had  a 
stronger  influence  than  he  knew.  Miss  Osborn  liked 
him,  but  her  father's  rank  and  traditions  were  daunting 
obstacles.  Kit  felt  this  was  unjust,  and  raw  passions 
and  prejudices  that  he  was,  as  a  rule,  too  sensible  to 
indulge,  got  the  mastery. 

"  My  father  is  right,"  he  said.  "  We  have  started  a 
fight  with  Bell ;  he's  a  dangerous  man  to  rouse  and  will 
make  us  pay,  unless  we  beat  him.  Besides,  he  has 
made  some  pay  already.  Old  rheumatic  men  and 
young  children  starved  by  half-empty  grates  when  the 
snow  stopped  us  getting  the  peat,  and  you  have  seen 
the  profits  you  worked  hard  for  melt  before  the  price 
Bell  charged  for  cattle-meal.  He's  been  getting 
greedier,  until  he  imagined  he  could  rob  us  as  he  liked, 
and  since  he  has  forced  us  into  the  quarrel,  my  notion 
is  we  ought  to  fight  it  out." 

Peter  looked  surprised,  but  did  not  speak,  and  there 
was  silence  for  a  few  moments.     Then  one  said : 

"  I'm  with  Kit.  We'll  hoad  on  until  Bell  comes  doon 
seven-and-six.     If  he  does,  we'll  talk  aboot  it  again." 

After  some  argument,  the  rest  agreed,  and  when  they 
went  away  Peter  turned  to  his  son. 


98  THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  Mayhappen  you've  sent  them  t'  right  road,  but  I 
dinna  ken!  I'm  none  fond  o'  fratching,  unless  I'm 
forced." 

"  We  are  forced,"  Kit  answered  moodily. 

Peter  gave  him  a  keen  glance  and  then  spread  out 
his  hands. 

"  It's  possible.  For  aw  that,  it  wadn't  ha'  done  much 
harm  to  give  t'  man  his  chance  o'  makin'  peace." 

Kit  did  not  answer,  but  went  out,  and  Askew  sat  by 
the  fire  with  a  thoughtful  look.  Something  had  hap- 
pened to  the  lad,  and  Peter  wondered  what  it  was.  He 
felt  vaguely  disturbed,  but  could  see  no  light. 


CHAPTER  XI 
osborn's  pride  gets  hurt 

SOON  after  the  farmers  met  at  Ashness,  Bell,  feel- 
ing sore  and  resentful,  sat  one  evening  in  the  Tarn- 
side  library.  Osborn,  after  fixing  a  time  for  his  visit, 
had  kept  him  waiting  twenty  minutes,  and  Bell  had 
come  to  think  himself  a  man  of  a  little  importance. 
The  spacious  library  was  very  cold  and  the  end  of  a 
small  log  smouldered  among  the  ashes  in  the  grate. 
Bell  knew  he  had  been  brought  into  the  library  because 
it  was  Osborn's  business  room ;  but  the  latter  might 
have  ordered  the  fire  to  be  made  up. 

His  neglect  rankled,  although  Bell  had  something  else 
to  think  about.  He  had  lowered  his  price  for  coal 
another  shilling,  without  attracting  buyers,  and  now 
admitted  that  the  dales  folks'  resistance  was  getting 
dangerous.  To  some  extent,  the  Askews  were  ac- 
countable for  this,  but  Osborn  got  a  large  share  of  the 
profit  Bell  had  hoped  to  make.  One  did  not  pay  a  high 
rent  for  nothing.  By  and  by  Bell  looked  at  Hayes, 
who  stood  by  the  hearth. 

"  The  next  time  I  come  to  Tarnside  Mr.  Osborn 
will  wait  for  me,"  he  remarked. 

Hayes  made  a  warning  gesture,  there  were  steps 
in  the  passage,  and  Osborn  came  in.  Ke  sat  down 
at  the  end  of  the  table  and  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  I  can  give  you  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,"  he 
said.     "  Perhaps  we  had  better  begin." 

The  big  room  was  nearly  dark,  but  the  men  sat  in 
the  light  a  shaded  lamp  threw  across  the  table.  Osborn 
looked  half  bored  and  half  impatient,  Hayes  was 
urbanely  inscrutable,  while  Bell's  mean  face  was  marked 
by  greed. 

99 


loo        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  Mr.  Bell  finds  his  stock  of  coal  accumulating  faster 
than  he  likes,"  said  Hayes.  "  He  must  pay  on  delivery, 
and  since  his  customers  have  combined  against  him, 
feels  he's  entitled  to  some  relief." 

"  I  don't  see  how  that  is  my  business,"  Osborn  re- 
joined. "  Bell  might  get  over  the  difficulty  by  lower- 
ing his  price." 

"  I've  putten  it  doon,"  Bell  broke  in.  "  The  price 
I  can  sell  at  is  fixed  by  my  rent." 

"  To  some  extent,  the  argument  is  logical,"  said 
Hayes. 

"  Then  am  I  to  understand  that  Mr.  Bell  expects  me 
to  reduce  his  rent?  " 

"  Not  to  begin  with,"  Hayes  answered,  giving  Bell 
a  warning  glance.  "  He  imagines  he  might  gain  his 
object  almost  as  well  if  we  stopped  Askew  cutting 
peat." 

"  You  cannot  stop  him.     The  peat  is  his." 

"  We  might  embarrass  him.  While  the  snow  lasts, 
it  saves  some  awkward  labor  to  cross  Creighton's  field 
and  use  his  lonning.  A  tenant  is  not  entitled  to  grant 
a  way-leave." 

'*  Allowing  a  friend  to  use  the  lane  for  a  week  or 
two  can  hardly  be  called  a  way-leave." 

"  Well,  although  Askew  owns  the  moor,  it's  doubt- 
ful if  he  is  entitled  to  remove  peat  for  sale,  unless  by 
arrangement  with  the  lord  of  the  manor.  I  have  seen 
Sir  Gordon's  agent  and  he  is  not  unwilling  to  dispute 
the  point." 

"  At  my  cost?  "  said  Osborn  with  a  sarcastic  smile. 
"  Enforcing  the  old  manorial  rights,  which  nobody 
knows  much  about,  would  be  an  expensive  business,  and 
I  have  no  money  to  risk.  However,  if  Bell  is  willing 
to  pay  the  lawyers  — " 

"  I'll  pay  nowt  but  rent.  It's  high  enough,"  Bell 
declared. 

Osborn  shrugged.     "  Very  well !     It  would  cost  too 


OSBORN'S  PRIDE  GETS  HURT      loi 

much  to  try  to  frighten  Askew  off.  He's  confoundedly 
shrewd  and  obstinate." 

Bell  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  but  his  face  got 
hard  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Osborn. 

"  There's  another  matter.  T'  mill  lease  will  soon 
fall  in  and  I  canna  tak'  it  on  again,  unless  I  get  the 
repairs  and  improvements  done.  Mr.  Hayes  has  t' 
list." 

The  agent  took  out  the  list  with  some  builders'  and 
millwrights'  estimates,  and  Osborn  frowned  as  he 
studied  the  documents.  It  was  obvious  that  Bell  meant 
to  use  pressure. 

"  I  don't  like  to  be  threatened,"  he  replied. 

"  It's  not  a  threat,"  said  Bell,  with  a  cunning  smile. 
"If  I'm  to  lose  my  money  at  coal  yards,  I  must  earn 
some  at  mill,  but  unless  I  get  t'  repairs  and  new  ma- 
chines, mill  willunt  pay  to  run."  He  paused  and 
studying  Osbom's  face  resumed :  "  There'll  be  nea 
peace  for  either  o'  us  while  the  Askews  gan  aboot 
makin'  trouble." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  so,  to  some  extent,"  Osborn 
agreed. 

"Then  is  it  fair  to  leave  me  to  fratch  wi'  them? 
After  aw,  they're  mair  your  enemies  than  mine." 

"  I  don't  understand  you ;  I  have  no  coal  to  sell." 

Bell  looked  up  with  a  sour  grin.  "  There's  worse 
ways  o'  hurting  a  proud  man  than  touching  his  pocket. 
If  you  dinna  ken  what's  going  on,  it's  time  you  watched 
young  Kit.  I'll  say  nea  mair,  but  aw  t'  oad  wives  are 
cracking  and  you  can  ask  Mr.  Hayes.     He  kens !  " 

Osborn's  face  got  red,  but  he  gave  Bell  a  haughty 
look. 

"  Anything  that  touches  me  personally  is  my  private 
concern  —  and  we  are  talking  about  the  lease  of  the 
mill.  I  cannot  make  all  the  improvements  you  ask  for, 
but  perhaps  something  can  be  done.  When  we  have 
studied  the  matter  Mr.  Hayes  will  let  you  know." 


102        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Bell  got  up  and  when  he  went  out  Osborn  turned  to 
Hayes.  "What  did  the  fellow  mean?  He  said  you 
knew !  " 

"  It's  dangerous  ground  and  I  frankly  wish  he'd  told 
you  to  ask  somebody  else.  However,  there  is  some 
gossip  — " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Osborn  sternly.  "  Whom  are  they 
gossiping  about?  " 

"  Miss  Osborn,  since  you  insist." 

Osborn  clenched  his  fist  and  the  veins  rose  on  his 
forehead  as  he  said,  "  And  young  Askew?  " 

Hayes  made  a  sign  of  agreement  and  Osborn,  getting 
up,  walked  across  the  floor.  He  came  back  with  a 
savage  sparkle  in  his  eyes  and  stood  in  front  of 
Hayes. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  know." 

With  a  pretense  of  reluctance,  Hayes  obeyed.  He 
told  Osborn  about  Grace's  visit  to  Railton's  and  hinted 
that  she  had  gone  to  find  out  if  Kit  had  brought  the 
sheep.  Then  he  narrated  their  meeting  in  the  dark 
near  Creighton's  farm  and  stated  his  grounds  for 
imagining  she  had  ridden  down  the  hill  on  the  first 
load  of  peat.  Hayes  was  tactful  and  apologetic,  but 
he  made  it  plain  that  tlie  girl  was  in  Kit's  confidence 
and  had  known  his  plans. 

Osborn  stopped  him  with  a  savage  gesture.  His 
face  was  deeply  flushed  and  his  voice  was  hoarse  as  he 
said :  "  That  is  enough.  The  thing  looks  impossible ! 
I  must  try  to  find  out  what  foundation  there  is  for  the 
ridiculous  tale." 

"  I  shall  be  relieved  if  you  do  find  it  is  ridiculous," 
said  Hayes,  who  went  off  soon  afterwards. 

For  some  minutes  Osborn  leaned  against  the  mantel 
with  his  hands  clenched,  for  he  had  got  a  shock.  He 
admitted  that  the  Osboms  had  some  faults,  but  they 
were  the  Tarnside  Osborns  and  had  ruled  the  dale  for 
a  very  long  time.     It  was  something  to  spring  from 


OSBORN'S  PRIDE  GETS  HURT      103 

such  a  stock,  and  the  wilful  girl  had  disgraced  them 
all.  Osborn  had  suspected  Grace  of  holding  danger- 
ous modern  views,  but  it  was  unthinkably  humiliating 
that  she  had  engaged  in  a  flirtation  with  a  farmer's 
son. 

He  had  declared  the  thing  impossible,  but  he  feared 
it  was  true.  Hayes  had  been  very  clear  about  her  visit 
to  Railton's,  and  her  coming  down  Malton  Head  on 
Askew's  sledge  was  ominous.  She  must  have  been 
strongly  attracted  by  Kit  since  she  had  done  a  thing 
like  that.  Besides,  she  had  obviously  sympathized 
with,  and  perhaps  helped,  his  plans.  This  was  treach- 
ery, because  it  was  a  tradition  of  the  Osborns  that  they 
stood  together. 

By  and  by  he  heard  voices  in  the  hall  and  braced 
himself.  He  must  go  down  to  receive  his  guests  and 
was  glad  that  they  had  come,  since  he  did  not  want  to 
tell  his  wife  about  the  matter  yet;  in  fact,  he  did  not 
think  he  would  talk  to  Grace.  The  thing  was  humiliat- 
ing, and  there  was  a  possibility  that  Hayes  had  been 
mistaken.  Osborn  resolved  to  watch  the  girl  and  then 
insist  on  a  reckoning  if  she  gave  him  grounds  for 
doing  so. 

He  went  down  and  carried  out  his  hospitable  duties. 
Next  morning  he  arranged  for  a  day's  shooting;  the 
snow  had  nearly  gone  and  there  were  a  few  pheasants 
left  in  Redmire  wood.  The  party  started  early,  taking 
their  lunch,  and  in  the  afternoon  Grace  left  Tarnside 
and  walked  down  the  dale.  She  had  no  particular  ob- 
ject, but  the  day  was  fine  and  she  wondered  whether 
Kit  had  brought  all  the  peat  from  Malton  Head. 

There  was  no  wind  and  the  frost  was  not  keen. 
Gray  clouds  trailed  across  the  sky  that  was  touched  with 
yellow  in  the  west,  and  soft,  elusive  lights  played  about 
the  dale.  Patches  of  snow  on  the  fellsides  gleamed 
and  faded ;  mossy  belts  glow^ed  vivid  green,  red  berries 
in  the  hedgerows  shone  among  withered  leaves  and 


104        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

fern,  and  then  the  light  passed  on  and  left  the  valley 
dim.  Something  in  its  calm  beauty  reacted  on  the 
girl  and  made  her  thoughtful.  She  loved  the  dale  and 
felt  that  she  might  be  happy  there  if  it  were  not  for 
her  father's  poverty  and  overbearing  temperament. 

After  all,  they  were  not  really  poor ;  they  had  enough 
to  satisfy  their  needs.  Their  clinging  to  out-of-date 
traditions  caused  the  strain.  One  gained  nothing  by 
pretending  to  be  rich  and  important ;  there  was  no  logi- 
cal reason  for  trying  to  live  like  one's  ancestors,  and 
the  effort  cost  the  Osborns  much.  It  meant  stern  pri- 
vate economy,  public  ostentation,  and  many  small  de- 
ceits. Grace  was  getting  tired  of  this  pretense;  she 
wanted  something  simpler  and  dignified.  For  the  most 
part,  the  dales  folk  looked  happy  and  she  had  come  to 
envy  them.  They  had  their  troubles,  but  they  were 
troubles  all  mankind  must  bear,  and  they  had  joys  one 
did  not  properly  value  at  Tarnside :  human  fellowship 
and  sympathy,  and  freedom  to  follow  their  bent.  A 
shepherd's  daughter,  for  example,  could  marry  whom 
she  liked  and  was  not  forced  to  accept  a  husband  who 
had  wealth  enough  to  satisfy  her  parents. 

Grace  blushed  as  she  thought  of  Alan  Thorn  and 
contrasted  him  with  Kit.  She  did  not  want  to  marry 
yet;  but  perhaps,  if  Kit  were  not  a  working  farmer's 
son —  She  pulled  herself  up,  with  a  smile,  for  it 
looked  as  if  she  had  not  broken  free  from  the  family 
traditions.  After  all,  it  did  not  matter  if  Kit  were  a 
farmer's  son.  He  was  honest  and  generous ;  he  had  a 
well-modeled  figure,  bright  eyes,  and  a  clean  brown 
skin.  But  since  Kit  was  not  her  lover,  she  was  in- 
dulging in  idle  sentiment;  and  then  she  admitted  that 
he  might  love  her,  although  she  did  not  yet  love  him. 
Indeed,  if  she  must  be  honest,  the  thing  was  possible  — 
she  had  seen  his  face  brighten  and  remarked  his  satis- 
faction when  they  met. 


OSBORN'S  PRIDE  GETS  HURT      105 

Then  she  stopped  abruptly  as  she  saw  him  coming 
down  the  road.  There  was  a  path  across  a  field  close 
by,  but  it  would  be  admitting  too  much  if  she  tried  to 
avoid  him,  and  she  went  on.  Kit  came  up,  dressed  in 
rough  working  clothes,  with  muddy  leggings,  and  a 
hedge  stick  in  his  hand.  Two  dogs  ran  before  him  and 
it  looked  as  if  he  had  been  driving  sheep.  Grace  was 
very  calm  when  he  took  off  his  cap  and  he  thought  the 
hint  of  stateliness  he  sometimes  noted  was  rather 
marked.  It  did  not  daunt  him ;  he  felt  it  was  proper 
Grace  should  look  like  that.  She  noted  that  he  was 
hot  and  breathless. 

*'  I  saw  you  as  I  was  bringing  the  sheep  down  Burton 
ghyll,"  he  said. 

"  Then  you  must  have  good  eyes,"  Grace  remarked. 
"  It's  a  long  way,  and  I  don't  wear  conspicuous 
clothes.' 

Kit  laughed.  "  I'd  have  known  you  much  farther 
off.     There's  nobody  in  the  dale  who  walks  Mke  you." 

Grace  gave  him  a  quiet  glance  that  he  met  without 
embarrassment.  She  saw  that  he  had  not  meant  to 
offer  her  a  cheap  compliment ;  yet  the  compliment  was 
justified.  A  dancing  master  had  told  her  that  she 
walked  and  carried  herself  well. 

"  But  where  are  the  sheep  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  left  them  in  the  field  at  the  beckfoot,"  he  an- 
swered with  a  touch  of  awkwardness.  "  We  can  bring 
them  down  afterwards ;  I  remembered  I  wanted  some- 
thing at  Allerby." 

Grace  turned  her  head  to  hide  a  smile.  It  was 
obvious  that  he  had  remembered  he  wanted  to  go  to 
Allerby  when  he  saw  her. 

"  Oh,  well,"  she  said,  "'  I  am  going  part  of  the  way. 
However,  I  mustn't  stop  you  if  you  want  to  get  back 
to  the  sheep." 

"  It  isn't  at  all  important,"  Kit  declared.     Then  he 


io6        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

paused  and  Grace  thought  he  was  studying  his  old  and 
rather  muddy  clothes.  "  But,  of  course,"  he  resumed, 
"  it's  possible  you'd  sooner  go  on  alone." 

She  laughed.  "  Don't  be  ridiculous,  Mr.  Askew  !  I 
think  you  know  what  I  mean.  I  didn't  want  to  keep 
you  from  your  work." 

He  looked  relieved.  "  Yes.  Although  I'm  not  very 
clever  at  this  sort  of  thing,  I  generally  do  know  what 
you  mean.     I  can't  tell  if  it's  strange  or  not." 

"  It  certainly  is  not  worth  while  puzzling  about.  I 
expect  I'm  rather  obvious  —  for  that  matter,  so  are 
you." 

"  Frankness  often  saves  you  some  trouble  and  I 
don't  know  if  it  gives  your  opponent  the  advantage 
some  folks  imagine.  However,  it's  not  our  rule  in 
the  dale  to  say  all  we  feel." 

"  It's  not  Bell's,  for  example.  How  is  the  coal  cam- 
paign getting  on?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Kit,  thoughtfully,  "  so  far  as  that  goes, 
I  believe  we  have  beaten  him.  There's  a  new  notice 
that  lowers  the  price  seven-and-six  altogether,  and  last 
night  we  advised  folks  to  buy.  But  I  don't  know  if  the 
fight's  over.  Bell  may  find  another  way  of  putting  on 
the  screw." 

"  I  hope  he  will  give  it  up,"  Grace  replied.  "  I  tried 
to  help,  because  I  felt  I  must ;  but  of  course  you  see  I 
can't  help  again." 

Kit  made  a  sign  of  understanding.  "  Yes ;  you 
showed  us  how  to  bring  the  peat  down.  Now  I  don't 
know  what  to  say.     It's  awkward  ground." 

They  were  silent  for  some  time  afterw^ards,  for  both 
had  said  enough  and  knew  that  Osborn's  resentment 
must  be  reckoned  on.  It  made  them  feel  like  accom- 
plices and  drew  them  together.  They  were  young  and 
not  given  to  looking  far  ahead,  but  they  saw  the  threat 
that  the  friendship  both  valued  might  be  broken  off. 

By  and  by  three  or  four  reports  rang  through  the 


OSBORN'S  PRIDE  GETS  HURT      107 

calm  air  and  Grace  came  near  to  stopping,  but  did 
not.  She  had  forgotten  Osborn  was  shooting  in  Red- 
mire  wood  and  she  and  Kit  must  pass  its  edge.  For 
all  that,  she  could  not  turn  back.  Kit  would  guess 
why  she  did  so;  it  would  be  an  awkward  admission 
that  she  was  afraid  of  being  seen  with  him  by  Osborn 
or  his  friends.  She  was  afraid,  but  she  was  proud, 
and  went  on,  hoping  that  Kit  had  not  noted  her  hesita- 
tion. He  had  not,  but  was  puzzled  by  her  resolute 
and  half-defiant  look. 

The  guns  were  silent  when  they  came  to  the  wood, 
which  rolled  down  the  hillside  below  the  road.  Here 
and  there  a  white  birch  trunk  and  a  yellow  patch  of 
oak  leaves  shone  among  the  dark  firs ;  the  beech  hedge 
was  covered  by  withered  brown  foliage.  A  belt  of 
grass  ran  between  the  wood  and  road  and  Grace  took 
the  little  path  along  its  edge.  Her  feet  made  no  noise 
and  her  tweed  dress  harmonized  with  the  subdued  color- 
ing of  dead  leaves  and  trunks.  The  light  was  not  good 
and  she  thought  she  would  not  be  visible  a  short  dis- 
tance off ;  besides  the  sportsmen  might  be  at  the  other 
side  of  the  wood.  She  hoped  they  were,  since  she 
vaguely  perceived  that  if  Osborn  saw  her  it  would 
force  a  crisis  she  was  not  yet  ready  to  meet.  Then 
her  thoughts  were  disturbed,  for  somebody  in  the 
wood  shouted :     "  Mark  cock  flying  low  to  right !  " 

A  gunshot  rang  out  close  by  and  a  small  brown 
bird,  skimming  the  top  of  the  hedge,  fluttered  awk- 
wardly across  the  road.  Next  moment  dry  twigs 
rustled  and  a  young  man  leaped  on  to  the  grass  with 
a  smoking  gun  in  his  hand.  As  he  threw  it  to  his 
shoulder.  Kit  ran  forward  and  struck  the  barrel. 
There  was  a  flash  and  while  the  echoes  of  the  report 
rolled  across  the  wood  a  little  puff  of  smoke  floated 
about  the  men.  Grace  stood  still,  trembling,  for  she 
knew  she  had  run  some  risk  of  being  shot. 

"Why  don't  you   look    before  you   shoot?"   Kit 


io8        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

shouted  in  a  strange,  hoarse  voice.  "  You've  no  busi- 
ness to  use  a  gun  on  a  pubHc  road.  It's  kicky  I  was 
quick." 

"That  is  so;  my  fault!"  gasped  the  other,  who 
took  off  his  cap  as  he  turned  to  Grace.  "  Very  sorry, 
Miss  Osborn ;  didn't  see  you.  Wanted  to  get  the 
woodcock.     Hope  you're  not  startled  much." 

Grace  forced  a  smile.  She  had  physical  courage  and 
was  shaken  rather  by  what  she  saw  in  Kit's  face  than 
the  risk  she  had  run.  Kit  looked  strangely  white  and 
strained.  He  had  obviously  got  a  bad  shock,  but  she 
thought  he  would  not  have  looked  like  that  had  he 
saved  anybody  else  from  the  other's  gun. 

"  My  dress  is  hard  to  see  against  the  trees.  You 
really  needn't  be  disturbed,"  she  said. 

The  young  man  renewed  his  confused  apologies, 
and  when  he  pushed  through  the  hedge  and  they  went 
on  again  Grace  looked  at  Kit.  He  had  not  got  his 
color  back,  his  lips  were  set  and  his  gaze  was  fixed. 
The  shock  had  broken  his  control  and  brought  her 
enlightenment.  He  loved  her,  but  she  needed  time  and 
quietness  to  grapple  with  the  situation.  Her  heart 
beat  and  her  nerves  tingled ;  she  could  not  see  the  line 
she  ought  to  take.     Yet  he  must  be  thanked. 

"  You  were  very  quick,"  she  said  as  calmly  as  possible 
although  she  was  conscious  of  a  curious  pride  in  him. 
"  Somehow  I  knew  if  there  was  need  for  quickness  you 
would  act  hke  that.  I  believe  I  was  stupid  enough  to 
stand  still  until  you  jumped.  Well,  of  course,  you 
know  I  thank  you  — " 

She  stopped,  for  Kit,  who  turned  his  head  for  a 
moment  turned  it  back  and  looked  straight  in  front. 
He  durst  not  trust  himself  to  speak,  and  they  went  on 
silently. 


CHAPTER  XII 

OSBORN    INTERFERES 

WHEN  Grace  and  Kit  had  gone  a  short  distance 
they  heard  voices  and  a  rattle  of  sticks  in  the 
wood,  but  the  noise  got  fainter  and  she  imagined  the 
beaters  were  moving  the  other  way.  Ferrars,  who 
shot  at  the  woodcock,  had  probably  not  had  time  to 
tell  Osborn  about  his  carelessness,  and  it  looked  as  if 
nobody  else  had  been  posted  near  the  road.  This  was 
something  of  a  relief,  but  Grace  felt  anxious.  A  gate 
not  far  off  led  to  a  drive  in  the  wood,  and  she  thought 
she  had  heard  Osborn's  voice. 

She  kept  on  the  belt  of  grass,  which  got  narrower, 
so  that  the  path  ran  close  to  the  hedge.  On  the  op- 
posite side,  a  clump  of  silver-firs  threw  a  shadow  across 
the  road,  and  a  patch  of  pale-yellow  sky  shone  be- 
hind an  opening  in  the  trees.  The  stiff  fir-branches 
cut  sharply  against  the  glow,  but  where  she  and  Kit 
were  the  light  was  dim.  For  all  that,  she  stopped 
abruptly  when  a  man  came  out  of  the  wood  and  turned, 
as  if  to  look  up  the  road.  It  was  Osborn  and  she 
thought  she  knew  for  whom  he  was  looking. 

Grace's  judgment  failed  her.  She  pushed  Kit 
towards  the  beech  hedge  and  they  stepped  into  a  small 
hollow  among  the  withered  leaves.  Kit  like  Grace,  had 
not  had  time  for  thought,  but  as  Osborn,  looking 
straight  in  front,  went  past,  he  felt  he  had  done  wrong. 
For  one  thing,  it  was  rather  shabby  to  hide  and  his 
doing  so  reflected  on  his  companion.  The  feeling  got 
stronger  as  Osborn  went  up  the  road,  and  Kit  was  sorry 
he  had  given  way  to  a  cowardly  impulse.  Yet  since 
he  had  hidden,  he  must  wait. 

109 


no        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

After  a  few  moments,  Grace  turned  her  head  and 
Kit  saw  her  face  was  flushed.  It  was  obvious  that 
she  felt  much  as  he  feh.  She  had  prompted  him 
to  hide,  but  she  had  done  so  in  sudden  alarm  and  he 
ought  to  have  kept  cool  and  thought  for  both,  par- 
ticularly since  it  was  getting  plain  that  Osborn  was 
looking  for  them.  The  latter  stopped,  hesitated,  and 
came  back,  and  Grace  turned  sharply  to  Kit.  Her 
look  was  strained,  but  he  got  a  hint  of  haughtiness  and 
resolve.  He  made  a  sign  that  he  understood,  and 
knew  he  had  done  well  when  he  moved  back  from  the 
hedge.  A  moment's  hesitation  would  have  cost  him 
the  girl's  respect.  They  waited  in  the  road  and  Kit's 
heart  beat  fast,  but  not  v/ith  fear. 

Osborn  stopped  a  yard  or  two  off  and  looked  at 
them  with  sternly  controlled  rage. 

"  It's  obvious  that  I  passed  you  just  now,"  he  said. 

"  You  did;  I  ought  to  have  stopped  you,"  Kit  agreed. 
"  For  a  moment,  it  did  not  strike  me  that  you  were 
looking  for  Miss  Osborn." 

Osborn  glanced  at  the  hollow  in  the  hedge.  "  It's 
curious  you  stopped  at  a  spot  where  there  was  not  much 
chance  of  your  being  seen." 

Grace  turned,  as  if  she  meant  to  speak,  but  Kit 
resumed:  "  After  all,  I  don't  know  that  you  are  en- 
titled to  question  what  I  do  on  a  public  road." 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Osborn,  with  forced  quietness. 
"  I  have,  however,  a  right  to  question  my  daughter's 
choice  of  her  acquaintances,  and  it  looks  as  if  I  had 
some  grounds  for  using  my  authority."  He  paused 
and  turned  to  Grace.  "  Your  mother  is  waiting  for 
you.     You  had  better  go  home." 

Grace  hesitated,  glancing  at  Kit.  It  was  her  fault 
that  they  had  hidden  and  she  would  have  waited  had 
she  thought  he  wanted  her.  Kit's  face,  however,  was 
hard  and  inscrutable,  and  with  something  of  an  effort 
she  went  away.     It  was  a  relief  to  Kit  that  she  had 


OSBORN  INTERFERES  in 

gone;  he  had  meant  to  keep  her  out  of  the  quarrel 
and  now  he  was  ready  to  talk  to  Osborn. 

"  The  matter  doesn't  end  here,"  the  latter  remarked. 
"  There's  something  to  be  said  that  your  father  ought 
to  know.  I  am  going  to  Ashness  and  expect  you  to 
come  with  me." 

"  You  must  wait.  I  have  some  sheep  at  the  beck- 
foot  and  it  will  take  me  half  an  hour  to  drive  them 
home,"  Kit  said  coolly. 

Osborn  looked  at  him  with  savage  surprise.  It 
was  unthinkable  that  he  should  be  forced  to  wait  while 
the  fellow  went  for  his  sheep,  but  he  saw  that  Kit  was 
not  to  be  moved  and  tried  to  control  his  anger. 

"  Very  well.  I  will  meet  you  at  Ashness  in  half  an 
hour." 

Kit  braced  himself  as  he  went  up  the  road.  In 
a  sense,  he  was  not  afraid  of  Osborn,  but  he  had  now 
to  meet  a  crisis  that  he  ought  to  have  seen  must  come. 
In  fact,  he  had  seen  it,  and  had,  rather  weakly,  tried 
to  cheat  himself  and  put  things  off.  He  loved  Grace, 
and  Osborn  would  never  approve.  Kit  knew  Osborn's 
pride  and  admitted  that  his  anger  was,  perhaps,  not 
altogether  unwarranted.  For  that  matter,  he  doubted 
if  Grace  knev/  how  far  his  rash  hopes  had  led  him. 
Then  he  thrilled  as  he  remembered  that  when  she 
pushed  him  back  to  the  hedge,  and  afterwards  when 
they  left  their  hiding  place,  something  had  hinted  that 
she  did  know  and  acknowledge  him  her  lover. 

In  the  meantime,  it  was  a  relief  to  drive  the  sheep 
down  the  dale;  he  could  not  think  while  he  was  oc- 
cupied and  thought  was  disturbing.  He  put  the  sheep 
into  a  field  and  overtook  Osborn  as  he  went  up  the 
farm  lonning  in  the  dark,  A  lamp  burned  in  the 
kitchen,  and  when  they  went  in  Peter  got  up  and  put 
his  pipe  on  the  table.  He  looked  at  them  with  some 
surprise,  but  waited  without  embarrassment.  Indeed, 
Kit  thought  his  father  was  curiously  dignified. 


112        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  Mr.  Osborn  has  something  to  say  he  wants  you 
to  hear,"  Kit  remarked.  "  Although  the  thing's  really 
my  business,  I  agreed." 

Osborn  refused  the  chair  Peter  indicated  and  stood 
in  a  stiff  pose.  His  face  was  red  and  he  looked  rather 
ridiculously  savage. 

"  I  found  your  son  and  my  daughter  hiding  from 
me  in  the  hedge  at  Redmire  wood,"  he  said.  "  I 
imagine  I'm  entitled  to  ask  for  an  explanation." 

"  Hiding?  "  said  Peter,  who  turned  to  Kit.  "  That 
was  wrong." 

"  It  was  wrong,"  Kit  admitted.  "  I  told  Mr.  Os- 
born so.  In  fact,  I  must  have  lost  my  head  when  I 
made  a  mistake  like  this.  Since  I  had  the  honor  of 
Miss  Osborn's  acquaintance  — " 

"Who  presented  you  to  my  daughter?"  Osborn 
interrupted. 

"  Nobody,"  Kit  admitted,  with  some  embarrass- 
ment. "  The  day  the  otter  hounds  were  hunting  the 
alder  pool  Miss  Osborn  wanted  to  cross  the  stepping 
stones.     Some  of  them  were  covered  and  I  — " 

"  Ah !  "  said  Osborn.  "  Then  the  thing  began  as 
long  since  as  that  ?  "  He  turned  to  Peter.  "  The  girl 
is  young  and  foolishly  proud  of  being  unconventional, 
or  she  would  have  known  that  she  could  make  use  of 
your  son's  help  without  an  obligation  to  speak  to  him 
again.  It's  obvious  that  he  has  worked  on  her  re- 
bellious humor  until  she  forgot  what  is  due  to  herself 
and  her  parents." 

"  Stop  a  bit,"  said  Peter.  "  She  was  doing  her 
parents  no  discredit  by  speaking  to  my  son." 

"  No  discredit !  "  Osborn  exclaimed,  losing  his  self- 
control.  "  When  I  find  her  and  the  fellow  skulking  out 
of  sight,  like  a  farm  hand  and  a  dairy-maid !  " 

Kit  raised  his  head  and  his  eyes  sparkled.  "  In  a 
sense,  I  am  a  farm  hand ;  but  it  would  be  better  if  you 
kept  your  hard  words  for  me." 


OSBORN  INTERFERES  113 

"  There  are  verra  good  dairymaids ;  modest,  hard- 
working lasses,"  Peter  remarked. 

"  It's  rather  late  to  play  the  part  of  a  rustic  cavalier, 
if  that  is  what  you  meant,"  Osborn  said  to  Kit  with  a 
sneer,  and  then  turned  to  Peter.  "  I  am  forced  to 
own  that  the  girl  deserves  some  blame.  Although 
she's  impulsive  and  unconventional,  she  ought  to  have 
seen  it  was  ridiculous  to  let  your  son  imagine  they  could 
be  friends." 

"You  think  that  was  ridiculous?" 

"  Of  course,"  said  Osborn,  with  haughty  surprise. 
"  The  absurdity  of  the  thing  is  obvious." 

"  Weel,"  said  Peter  dryly,  "  I  reckon  they  might  be 
friends  without  much  harm,  though  I  wadn't  have 
them  gan  farther.  Although  the  lass  is  yours,  the  lad 
is  mine." 

Osborn  laughed  scornfully.  "  If  I  understand  you, 
your  attitude  is  humorous.  But  do  you  wish  me  to 
believe  you  didn't  know  what  was  going  on?  You 
have  made  my  tenants  dissatisfied  and  plotted  against 
me,  and  now,  no  doubt,  you  saw  another  means." 

"  Stop,"  said  Peter,  with  stern  quietness.  "  We 
have  not  been  good  neebors,  though  I  dinna  ken  that's 
much  fault  o'  mine;  but  if  you  thowt  I'd  use  a  foolish 
girl  to  hurt  a  man  I  didn't  like,  you're  varra  wrang. 
Hooiver,  you  came  for  an  explanation,  and  I  want  one, 
too."  He  turned  to  Kit.  "  You  had  better  tell  us 
why  you  kept  up  Miss  Osborn's  acquaintance  withoot 
her  father's  consent." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Kit,  standing  very  straight  and 
holding  up  his  head.  "  I  met  Miss  Osborn,  so  to  speak, 
by  accident,  and  afterwards  we  sometimes  talked. 
Her  beauty  and  talent  were  plain  to  me  at  first,  but  it 
was  some  time  before  I  knew  I  loved  her,  and  then  it 
was  too  late.  I  knew  my  folly  —  it  was  a  folly  I 
couldn't  conquer,  and  now  I  think  I  never  shall.  Well, 
I  suppose  I  hoped  that  some  day  things  might  change." 


114        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  Do  you  imply  that  Grace  knew  what  you  hoped  ?  " 
Osborn  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Kit,  quietly.  "  I  gave  her  no  hint.  It 
was  plain  that  she  was  willing  we  should  meet  and 
talk  like  friends.     This  was  not  wrong." 

"  Not  wrong  that  my  daughter  should  meet  you 
secretly ! "  Osborn  exclaimed  with  sudden  rage. 
"  Are  you  foolish  enough  to  imagine  you  and  a  mem- 
ber of  my  family  could  meet  like  equals?" 

"  I  have  not  pretended  to  be  Miss  Osbom's  equal. 
But  the  inequality  I  acknowledge  is  not  what  you 
mean." 

Osborn  shrugged  with  scornful  impatience. 
"  Pshaw !  We'll  let  that  go.  You  said  you  hoped 
things  might  change  Do  you  think  any  change  of 
fortune  could  give  you  the  tastes  and  feelings  of  a 
gentleman?  Make  you  a  proper  husband  for  my 
daughter?     You  know  the  thing's  impossible." 

Kit  colored  and  hesitated,  and  Peter  signed  him  to 
be  quiet. 

"  These  meetings  must  be  stopped.  I'm  as  much 
against  such  a  match  as  I  think  you  are." 

"  Ah,"  said  Osborn,  who  looked  puzzled,  "  you 
hinted  something  of  the  kind !  I  don't  know  that  your 
point  of  view's  important,  but  I  can't  understand." 

"  My  meaning's  no  varra  hard  to  see,"  Peter  an- 
swered. "  The  lass  is  bonny  and,  so  far  as  I  ken,  weel- 
meaning  and  kind ;  but  she  has  been  badly  browt  up  at 
an  extravagant  hoose.  She'll  not  can  help  her  hus- 
band, except  mayhappen  to  waste,  and  she  has  niver 
learned  to  work  and  gan  withoot.  Weel,  it  seems  we 
are  agreed.  Miss  Osborn  is  no  the  lass  I  would  wel- 
come for  my  son's  wife." 

Osborn  looked  at  him  with  frank  surprise.  Then 
he  said,  "  We'll  make  an  end,"  and  turned  to  Kit. 
"If  you  speak  to  my  daughter  again,  she  will  be  for- 
bidden to  leave  the  Tarnside  grounds;  if  you  write 


OSBORN  INTERFERES  115 

to  her,  your  letter  will  be  burned.  She  cannot  resist 
my  control  for  the  next  three  or  four  years.  There's 
nothing  more  to  be  said." 

He  went  out  and  Peter,  who  walked  to  the  porch 
with  him,  came  back  and  looked  quietly  at  Kit. 

"A  proud  and  foolish  man,  but  he's  hit  hard!  "  he 
said.  "  Mayhappen  it  will  hurt,  my  lad,  but  you  must 
be  done  wi'  this.     Osbom's  daughter  is  none  for  you." 

Kit  looked  straight  in  front,  with  his  hands  clenched. 
"  So  it  seems,  for  some  years.  It  does  hurt.  I  can- 
not give  her  up." 

Peter  lighted  his  pipe  and  there  was  silence  for 
a  few  minutes.  Then  as  Kit  did  not  move  he  re- 
marked: "I  ken  something  o'  what  you're  feeling; 
aw  t'  same  you've  got  to  fratch.  There's  nowt  against 
the  lass  except  that  she's  Osborn's  child,  but  she's  none 
o'  our  kind  and  it's  sense  and  custom  that  like  gans 
to  like." 

"  It  would  be  easier  if  I  could  get  away.  I  can't 
stop  in  the  dale,  knowing  she's  about  and  I  mustn't  see 
her." 

Peter  went  into  the  next  room  and  opened  an  old 
desk.  He  had  for  some  time  expected  that  the  mo- 
ment he  now  shrank  from  would  come  and  his  heart 
was  sore,  but  he  knew  his  son's  steadfast  character  and 
meant  to  save  him  pain.  Going  back  he  gave  Kit  his 
brother's  last  letter. 

"  Mayhappen  it's  better  that  you  should  gan,"  he 
said  quietly. 

Kit  read  the  letter  and  looked  up  with  a  strained 
expression.  "  I  never  thought  I'd  want  to  leave  Ash- 
ness  and  I  feel  a  selfish  brute !  All  the  same  it  would 
be  a  relief." 

"  Just  that ! "  said  Peter.  "  I'll  miss  you  when 
you've  gone,  but  it's  no'  my  part  to  stand  in  your 
way.  We'll  write  Adam  to-morrow  and  tell  him  you'll 
come." 


ii6        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Kit  crossed  the  floor  and  put  his  hand  on  his  father's 
arm.  ''  Thanks ;  I  think  I  know  what  this  means  to 
you.     It  will  cost  me  something;  but  I  must  go." 

He  went  out  and  Peter  sat  still,  looking  gloomily 
at  the  fire.  He  felt  old  and  knew  he  would  be  very 
lonely  soon.  The  fire  burned  low  and  the  kitchen  got 
cold,  but  Kit  did  not  come  back  and  when  Peter  heard 
his  housekeeper's  clogs  on  the  stones  outside  he  got 
up  and  crossed  the  floor,  to  get  his  hat.  Old  Bella 
was  curious  and  he  did  not  want  to  talk,  but  there 
was  something  to  be  done  in  the  barn  and  when  his 
heart  was  sore  it  was  a  rehef  to  work. 


PART  II— ON  THE  CARIBBEAN 


< 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   OLD   BUCCANEER 

IT  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  and  Kit 
Askew  lounged  in  a  chair  on  the  bridge-deck  as  the 
Rio  Negro  steamed  slowly  across  the  long  swell  of  the 
Caribbean.  The  wrinkled  undulations  sparkled  with 
reflected  light  in  a  dazzling  pattern  of  blue  and  silver, 
and  then  faded  to  green  and  purple  in  the  shadow  of 
the  ship.  A  wave  of  snowy  foam  curled  up  as  the 
bows  went  down  and  the  throb  of  the  propeller  quick- 
ened as  the  poop  swung  against  the  sky.  Then  the 
lurching  hull  steadied  and  the  clang  of  engines  re- 
sumed its  measured  beat. 

The  Rio  Negro  was  old  and  ugly,  with  short  iron 
masts  from  which  clum»sy  derricks  hung,  tall,  upright 
fu?nnel,  and  blistered,  gray  paint.  Her  boats  were 
dirty  and  stained  by  soot,  and  a  belt  of  rust  at  her 
waterline  hinted  at  neglect,  but  no  barnacles  and  weed 
marred  the  smoothness  of  the  plates  below.  Her  anti- 
fouling  paint  was  clean,  and  her  lines  beneath  the 
swell  of  quarter  and  bows  were  fine.  In  fact,  the 
Rio  Negro  was  faster  than  she  looked  when  she  carried 
her  regular  load  of  two  thousand  tons  and  her  under- 
water body  was  hidden.  She  traded  in  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico  and  the  Caribbean,  and  at  certain  ports  Cus- 
toms officials  carefully  scrutinized  her  papers.  At 
others,  they  smiled  and  allowed  her  captain  privileges 
that  strangers  did  not  get. 

Kit  wore  spotless  white  clothes,  a  black-silk  belt, 
and  a  Panama  hat  of  the  expensive  kind  the  Indians 
weave,  holding  the  fine  material  under  water.     A  glass 

119 


120        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

occupied  a  socket  in  his  chair,  and  when  the  Rio  Negro 
rolled  a  lump  of  ice  tinkled  against  its  rim;  a  box  of 
choice  cigars  lay  on  the  deck.  Kit,  however,  was  not 
smoking,  but  drowsily  pondered  the  life  he  had  led 
for  the  last  three  years.  He  was  thinner  and  looked 
older  than  when  he  left  Ashness.  He  had  lost  some- 
thing of  his  frankness  and  his  raw  enthusiasm  had 
gone.  His  face  was  quieter  and  his  mouth  set  in  a 
firm  line. 

He  remembered  his  surprise  when  he  first  met  his 
uncle  at  a  luxurious  Florida  hotel.  Adam  Askew  wore 
loose  white  clothes,  a  well-cut  Tuxedo  jacket,  a  dia- 
mond ring,  and  another  big  diamond  in  his  scarf. 
His  skin  was  a  curious  yellowish  brown  and  his  eyes 
were  very  black ;  he  ralher  looked  like  a  Spanish  Creole 
than  an  Englishman.  He  had  nothing  of  his  brother's 
quiet  manner.  Although  he  was  getting  old,  he  walked 
with  a  jaunty  step;  he  had  a  humorous  twinkle,  and 
his  laugh  was  careless.  In  fact,  he  had  an  exotic, 
romantic  look  that  harmonized  with  Kit's  notions  of 
the  pirates  who  once  haunted  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
When  Kit  afterwards  learned  why  Adam's  friends 
called  him  the  "  buccaneer,"  he  saw  that  his  first  im- 
pression was  not  extravagant. 

Now  he  remembered  that  when  they  sat  behind  the 
imitation  Moorish  arches  on  the  hotel  veranda  Adam 
studied  him  and  laughed. 

"  You're  certainly  Peter's  son,"  he  remarked.  "  I 
can  imagine  I'd  just  left  him  at  the  end  of  the  Ash- 
ness lonning  thirty  years  since.  Except  that  he's  got 
older,  I  reckon  he  hasn't  changed,  and  for  that  matter, 
Peter  was  never  young.  Well,  you  are  surely  like  him, 
but  if  you  stop  in  this  country  we'll  put  a  move  on 
you." 

"If  I'm  like  my  father,  I  am  satisfied,"  Kit  re- 
joined. 

Adam's  black  eyes  twinkled.     "  Now  I  see  a  dif- 


THE  OLD  BUCCANEER  121 

ference;  there's  red  blood  in  you.  But  don't  take  me 
wrong.  Peter's  a  white  man,  straight  as  a  plumb-Hne, 
one  of  the  best ;  he's  a  year  the  younger  of  us,  but  when 
the  old  man  died  he  brought  me  up.  There  are  two 
kinds  of  Askews  and  I  belong  to  the  other  lot.  I 
don't  know  why  they  called  you  after  roystering  Kit." 

It  was  obvious  that  Adam  knew  the  family  history, 
for  Christopher  Askew  was  a  turbulent  Jacobite  who 
lost  the  most  part  of  his  estate  when  he  joined  Prince 
Charlie's  starving  Highlanders  in  the  rearguard  fight 
at  Clifton  Moor.  Afterwards  the  sober  quietness  at 
Ashness  had  now  and  then  been  disturbed  by  an  Askew 
who  inherited  the  first  Kit's  reckless  temperament. 

Three  years  had  gone  since  Kit  met  Adam,  and  he 
had  learned  much.  To  begin  with,  Adam  sent  him  to 
an  American  business  school,  and  made  him  study 
Castilian  and  French.  Then  he  sent  him  to  Mexico 
and  countries  farther  south,  w-here  he  studied  human 
nature  of  strangely  varied  kinds.  He  met  and  traded 
with  men  of  many  colors :  French  and  Spanish 
Creoles,  negroes,  Indians,  and  half-breeds  with  some 
of  the  blood  of  all.  He  knew  the  American  gulf  ports 
and  their  cosmopolitan  hotels  and  gambling  saloons, 
but  Adam  noted  with  half-amused  approval  that  while 
he  was  not  at  all  a  prig  he  developed  Peter's  character 
and  not  Kit  the  Jacobite's.  Now  they  were  going  south 
across  the  Caribbean  on  a  business  venture. 

Bt  and  by  Adam  came  slowly  along  the  bridge- 
deck.  The  three  years  had  marked  a  change  in  him 
and  Kit  thought  he  did  not  look  well.  Adam  suffered 
now  and  then  from  malarial  ague,  caught  in  the  man- 
grove swamps.  He  v^as  thin,  his  yellow  face  was  hag- 
gard, and  his  shoulders  were  bent.  Sitting  down  close 
by,  he  lighted  a  cigar  and  turned  to  Kit. 

"  We  ought  to  raise  the  coast  before  it's  dark  and 
I  reckon  Mayne  will  get  his  bearings,"  he  remarked. 
*'  The  lagoon's  a  blamed  awkward  place  to  enter  and 


122        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

I'd  have  waited  until  to-morrow  only  that  Don  Her- 
nando is  expecting  us." 

"  It  will  save  us  a  day  if  we  can  get  in,  since  you 
want  to  land  the  B.  F.  cargo  in  the  dark,"  Kit  said 
thoughtfully.  "  We  pay  high  wages  and  the  Rio 
Negro  is  an  expensive  boat  to  run." 

"  That's  so,"  Adam  agreed  with  a  smile.  "  You 
talk  like  a  Cumberland  flock-master.  Counting  every 
cent  you  spend  is  a  safe  plan,  but  I  don't  know  that 
this  trip  will  pan  out  much  of  a  business  proposition." 

"  Do  you  feel  better  for  your  sleep  ?  "  Kit  asked. 

"  Some,  though  I've  got  a  headache  and  a  pain  in 
my  back.     Guess  they'll  shake  off  when  I  get  to  work." 

"  I  was  surprised  when  you  said  you  meant  to  sail 
with  us." 

"  So  I  imagined,"  Adam  rejoined  dr)'ly.  "  You 
wondered  why  I  didn't,  as  usual,  trust  you  to  deliver  the 
goods  ?  Well,  there's  rather  more  to  this  job  than  that, 
and  I  meant  to  put  you  wise  before  we  landed.  You 
have  heard  me  called  a  pirate,  but  I  don't  reckon  on 
taking  home  much  plunder  now." 

Kit  mused  while  Adam  beckoned  a  mulatto  steward, 
who  brought  him  a  glass  and  some  ice.  His  uncle's 
character  was  complex.  Sometimes  he  was  hard  and 
exacted  all  that  was  his;  sometimes  he  was  rashly 
generous.  Ostensibly,  he  was  a  merchant,  shipping 
tools  and  machines,  particularly  supplies  for  sugar  mills, 
to  the  countries  round  the  Caribbean,  and  taking  pay- 
ment in  native  produce.  Kit,  however,  knew  the  cases 
landed  from  the  Rio  Negro  did  not  always  hold  the 
goods  the  labels  stated,  and  that  Adam's  money  some- 
times helped  to  float  an  unpopular  government  over 
a  crisis  and  sometimes  to  turn  another  out.  It  was 
a  risky  business,  carried  on  with  people  who  had  a 
talent  for  dark  revolutionary  intrigue. 

"  Since  Don  Hernando  Alvarez  is  president  of  the 


THE  OLD  BUCCANEER  123 

republic,  I  don't  quite  see  why  we  need  smuggle  in 
his  machine-guns,"  Kit  remarked. 

"  On  the  surface,  the  reason  isn't  very  obvious. 
Alvarez  is  president  now,  but  mayn't  be  very  long. 
It  depends  on  whether  he  or  his  rival,  Gaidar,  gets  his 
blow  in  jfirst.  I  reckon  the  chances  are  against  Alvarez 
if  Gaidar  puts  up  a  fight,  but  the  latter's  not  ready  yet 
and  Alvarez  means  to  arm  his  troops  before  the  fellow 
knows.  I  imagine  about  half  the  citizens  are  plotters 
and  spies." 

"  Alvarez  has  been  honest  so  far.  I  suppose  if  he 
wins  he'll  pay  ?  " 

"  That's  so,"  said  Adam  dryly.  "  If  he  goes  down, 
we  get  nothing.  Although  I  don't  know  much  about 
his  ancestors  and  suspect  that  one  was  an  Indian,  Al- 
varez is  white,  but  the  other  fellow's  a  blamed  poor 
sample  of  the  half-breed  nigger.  Well,  when  Alvarez 
found  things  were  going  wrong,  he  sent  for  me." 

"  Ah,"  said  Kit  in  a  thoughtful  voice,  "  I  begin  to 
understand." 

He  did  understand,  although  he  would  not  have  done 
so  when  he  met  his  uncle  first.  He  had  known  Adam 
play  the  part  of  a  merciless  creditor,  and  thought  few 
men  could  beat  him  at  a  bargain,  but  he  kept  his  bar- 
gain when  it  was  made,  and  now  and  then  risked  his 
money  on  lost  causes.  It  looked  as  if  he  had  inher- 
ited something  from  Christopher  the  Jacobite. 

"  You  have  known  Alvarez  long,  haven't  you?  "  Kit 
resumed. 

"  When  I  met  him  first,  he  was  a  customs  officer  with 
some  perquisites  and  a  salary  that  paid  for  liquor  and 
tobacco.  Vanhuyten  and  I  ran  the  old  Mercedes  then, 
and  Van  made  a  mistake  that  put  us  at  the  fellow's 
mercy.  There  was  a  good  case  for  confiscating  the 
schooner,  which  would  have  given  Alvarez  a  lift  while 
we  went  broke.     In  fact,  the  night  of  the  crisis,  I 


124        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

dropped  Van's  pistol  overboard ;  he'd  got  malaria  badly 
and  was  feeling  desperate.  Well,  all  we  had  given 
Alvarez  didn't  cover  that  kind  of  a  job,  but  he'd  prom- 
ised to  stand  our  friend  and  kept  his  word  like  a  gentle- 
man. Guess  it  needed  some  nerve  and  judgment  to 
work  things  the  way  he  did,  and  when  we  stole  out  to 
sea  at  daybreak  past  the  port  guard,  I  knew  there  was 
one  man  in  the  rotten  country  I  could  trust  with  my 
life.  Now  he's  in  a  tight  place,  he  knows  he  can 
trust  me." 

Adam  got  up  and  crossing  the  deck  leaned  against 
the  rails.  In  the  distance,  where  the  glitter  faded, 
there  was  a  long  gray  smear  that  seemed  to  float  like 
a  smoke-trail  above  the  water.  Higher  up,  a  vague 
blue  line  ran  across  the  dazzling  sky.  The  first  was  a 
fringe  of  mangrove  forest ;  the  other  lofty  mountains. 
A  minute  or  two  later,  the  fat,  brown- faced  captain 
came  down  from  his  bridge. 

"Looks  like  the  Punta;  we've  hit  her  first  time,'* 
he  remarked.  "  In  about  an  hour  I  ought  to  get  my 
marks.     When  d'you  want  her  taken  in  ?  " 

*'  Soon  as  it's  dark,"  Adam  replied.  "  You'll  have 
to  trust  your  lead  and  compass.  Can't  have  you 
whistling  for  a  pilot,  and  I'd  sooner  you  put  out  your 
lights." 

"  It's  your  risk  and  not  the  first  time  I've  broken 
rules.  I  guess  I  can  keep  her  off  the  ground.  We'll 
get  busy  presently  and  heave  the  hatches  off.  The 
B.F.  cases  are  right  on  top." 

Adam  nodded,  and  beckoned  Kit  when  the  captain 
went  away.  "  You  haven't  been  in  the  Santa  jMarta 
lagoon  yet.  Stand  by  and  watch  the  soundings  and 
compass  while  Mayne  takes  her  across  the  shoals. 
You  may  find  it  useful  to  know  the  channel." 

Kit  understood.  Malaria  and  other  fevers  are  com- 
mon on  low-lying  belts  of  the  Caribbean  coast  and 
skippers  and  mates  fall  sick.     Moreover,  the  Rio  Negro 


THE  OLD  BUCCANEER  125 

did  not  always  load  at  the  regular  ports.  Sometimes 
she  crept  into  mangrove-fringed  lagoons,  and  some- 
times stopped  at  lonely  beaches  and  sent  loaded  boats 
ashore  when  her  captain  saw  the  gleam  of  signal  lights. 

When  it  was  getting  dark,  Kit  and  Adam  went  to 
the  bridge  and  the  former  noted  that  his  uncle  breathed 
rather  hard  and  seized  the  rails  firmly  as  he  climbed 
the  ladder.  The  red  glow  of  sunset  had  faded  behind 
the  high  land  and  a  gray  haze  spread  across  the  swampy 
shore,  but  the  water  shone  with  pale  reflections.  On 
one  side,  a  long,  dingy  smear  floated  across  the  sky. 
It  did  not  move  and  Kit  thought  it  had  come  from  the 
funnel  of  a  steamer  whose  engineer  had  afterwards 
cleaned  his  fires.  Captain  Mayne  studied  the  fleecy 
trail  with  his  glasses. 

"  I  don't  know  if  that's  a  coffee-boat  going  north; 
I  can't  make  out  her  hull  against  the  land,"  he  said. 
"  Sometimes  there's  a  guarda-costa  hanging  round  the 
point." 

"  Better  take  no  chances,"  Adam  replied,  glancing 
at  the  Rio  Negro's  funnel,  from  which  a  faint  plume 
of  vapor  floated. 

Mayne  signed  to  the  quartermaster  in  the  pilot  house 
and  the  bows  swung  round.  Half  an  hour  afterwards, 
he  rang  his  telegraph  and  the  clang  of  engines  died 
away  while  the  throb  of  the  propeller  stopped.  In 
what  seemed  an  unnatural  silence,  a  few  barefooted 
deck-hands  began  to  move  about,  and  one  stood  on 
the  forecastle,  where  his  dark  figure  cut  against  the 
shining  sea.  The  rest  went  aft  with  a  line  the  other 
held,  and  when  Mayne  raised  his  hand  there  was  a 
splash  as  the  deep-sea  lead  plunged.  A  man  aft  called 
the  depth  while  he  gathered  up  the  line,  and  Mayne 
beckoned  another,  who  climbed  to  a  little  platform  out- 
side the  bridge  and  fastened  a  strap  round  his  waist. 

"  We're  on  the  Santa  Marta  shelf,  but  I'm  four 
miles  off  the  course  I  set,"  Mayne  remarked.     "  I  want 


126        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

to  work  out  the  angle  from  the  first  bearing  I  got." 

Kit  went  with  him  into  the  chart-room,  for  he  knew 
something  about  navigation.  They  had  taught  him 
the  principles  of  land-surveying  at  the  agricultural  col- 
lege, and  this  had  made  his  studies  easier.  When  he 
came  back  the  moon  was  getting  bright,  but  the  haze 
had  thickened  on  the  low  ground  and  the  heights  be- 
hind had  faded  to  a  vague,  formless  blur.  The  trail 
of  smoke  had  vanished,  there  was  no  wind,  and  the 
smooth  swell  broke  against  the  bows  with  a  monoton- 
ous dull  roar  as  the  Rio  Negro  went  on.  She  was 
alone  on  the  heaving  water  and  steaming  slowly,  but 
the  noise  of  her  progress  carried  far.  By  and  by  a 
light  twinkled  ahead,  leaped  up  into  a  steady  glow  that 
lasted  for  some  minutes,  and  then  went  out. 

"  That's  a  relief,"  remarked  Adam,  who  had  struck 
a  match  and  studied  his  watch.  "  The  ground's  clear 
and  Don  Hernando  has  somebody  he  can  trust  waiting 
at  the  lagoon.     You  can  let  her  go  ahead.  Captain.'' 

Mayne  rang  his  telegraph  and  Kit  went  into  the 
pilot  house.  The  dim  light  of  the  binnacle  lamp 
touched  the  compass,  but  everything  else  was  dark 
and  the  windows  were  down.  Kit  could  see  the  quar- 
termaster's dark  form  behind  the  wheel,  and  the  silver 
shining  of  the  sea.  There  was  a  splash  as  the  man 
on  the  platform  released  the  whirling  hand-lead. 
When  he  called  the  depth  Mayne  gave  an  order  and 
the  quartermaster  pulled  round  the  wheel.  The  swell 
was  not  so  smooth  now.  It  ran  in  steep  undulations 
and  in  one  place  to  starboard  a  broad,  foaming  patch 
appeared  between  the  rollers.  Kit  knew  the  water 
was  shoaling  fast  as  the  Rio  Negro  steamed  across  the 
inclined  shelf.  It  was  risky  work  to  take  her  in,  be- 
cause the  fire  had  vanished  and  there  were  no  marks 
to  steer  for.  Mayne  must  trust  his  compass  and  his 
rough  calculations. 

"  Tide's  running  flood,"  he  said  to  Adam.     "  She'd 


THE  OLD  BUCCANEER  127 

have  steered  handier  if  we'd  gone  in  against  the  ebb; 
but  there's  a  better  chance  of  coming  off  if  she  touches 
ground." 

"  You  don't  want  to  touch  ground  and  stop  there 
with  the  B.F.  goods  on  board,"  Adam  repHed. 

After  this,  there  was  silence  except  when  Mayne 
gave  an  order.  White  upheavals  broke  the  passing 
swell  on  both  sides  of  the  ship.  She  rolled  with  violent 
jerks  and  at  regular  intervals  the  bows  swung  up. 
When  they  sank,  a  dark  mass  with  a  ragged  top  cut 
off  the  view  from  the  pilot-house,  and  Kit  knew  it  was 
a  mangrove  forest.  He  could  see  no  break  in  the 
wall  of  trees  that  grew  out  of  the  water,  but  they  were 
not  far  off  when  there  was  a  heavy  jar,  and  the  Rio 
Negro  stopped.  The  floor  of  the  pilot-house  slanted 
and  Kit  and  the  quartermaster  fell  against  the  wheel. 
Then  there  was  a  roar  as  a  white-topped  roller  came 
up  astern  and  broke  about  the  vessel's  rail  in  boiling 
foam.  She  lifted,  struck  again,  and  went  on  with 
an  awkward  lurch. 

"Port;  hard  over!"  Mayne  shouted  hoarsely,  and 
Kit  helped  the  quartermaster  to  pull  round  the  wheel. 

The  order  disturbed  him,  since  it  looked  as  if  Mayne 
was  off  his  course.  The  swell  broke  angrily  ahead, 
but  in  one  place,  some  distance  to  one  side,  the  wall 
of  forest  looked  less  solid  than  the  rest.  A  roar 
came  out  of  the  mist  and  Kit  knew  it  was  the  beat 
of  surf  on  a  hidden  beach.  This  told  him  where  he 
was,  because  a  sandy  key  protected  the  mouth  of  the 
lagoon;  but  he  doubted  if  Mayne  could  get  round  the 
point.  The  tide  was  carrying  the  vessel  on  and  there 
was  broken  water  all  about. 

She  went  on,  with  engines  thumping  steadily;  the 
hollow  in  the  forest  opened  up  until  it  became  a  gap 
and  Kit  could  not  see  trees  behind  it.  Mayne  gave 
another  sharp  order,  and  Kit  and  the  quartermaster 
pulled  at  the  wheel.     The  dark  bows  swung,  the  speed 


128        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

quickened,  and  the  rolling  stopped.  The  throb  of 
the  screw  and  thump  of  engines  echoed  across  misty- 
woods  and  there  was  a  curious  gurgling  noise  that  Kit 
thought  was  made  by  tlie  tide  rippling  among  the  man- 
grove roots.  The  air  got  damp  and  steamy  and  a 
sour  smell  filled  the  pilot-house.  Kit  knew  the  odors 
of  rotting  leaves,  spices,  and  warm  mud. 

In  the  meantime,  he  was  kept  occupied  at  the  wheel 
for  Mayne  changed  his  course  as  the  trees  rolled  past, 
until  the  telegraph  rang  and  the  engines  stopped.  Then 
there  was  silence  until  he  heard  the  splash  of  the 
anchor  and  the  roar  of  running  chain.  As  the  Rio 
Negro  slowly  swung  round,  the  winches  rattled  and 
her  boats  were  hoisted  out.  Kit  got  into  one  with 
Adam  and  landed  on  a  muddy  beach.  Dark  figures 
came  down  to  meet  them,  horses  were  waiting  at  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  and  a  few  minutes  later  they 
mounted  and  plunged  into  the  gloom. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   PRESIDIO 

DAZZLING  sunshine  flooded  the  belt  of  sand  where 
the  shadows  of  dusty  palmettos  quivered  beyond 
the  Moorish  arch;  the  old  presidio  smelt  like  a  brick- 
kiln and  the  heat  outside  was  nearly  intolerable.  In 
the  middle  of  the  dirty  patio  a  fountain  splashed  in 
a  broken  marble  basin,  and  it  was  dim,  and  by  con- 
trast cool,  under  the  arcade  where  Kit  sat  among  the 
crumbling  pillars.  The  presidio  was  a  relic  of  Span- 
ish dominion  and  its  founders  had  built  it  well,  copy- 
ing, with  such  materials  as  they  could  get,  stately  models 
the  Moors  had  left  in  the  distant  Peninsula.  A  part 
had  fallen  and  blocks  of  sun-baked  mud  lay  about  in 
piles,  but  the  long,  white  front,  with  its  battlemented 
top  and  narrow,  barred  windows  stood  firm.  In  spite 
of  the  ruinous  patio,  the  presidio  was  the  finest  build- 
ing in  the  town. 

The  others,  so  far  as  Kit  could  see,  were  squares 
of  mud,  for  the  most  part  whitewashed,  although 
some  were  colored  pink  and  cream.  The  glare  they 
reflected  was  dazzling,  but  a  row  of  limp  palmettos 
ran  between  them  and  the  space  in  front  of  the  presidio, 
and  here  and  there  Kit  noted  rounded  masses  of  vivid 
green.  Except  for  the  splash  of  the  fountain,  all  was 
very  quiet,  and  although  the  shadows  had  lengthened 
it  looked  as  if  the  half-breed  citizens  were  still  enjoying 
their  afternoon  sleep.  Now  and  then  a  barefooted 
sentry  noiselessly  passed  the  arch.  He  wore  a  dirty 
white  uniform  and  ragged  palm-leaf  hat.  but  carried 
a  good  modern  rifle,  and  Kit  knew  where  the  latter  had 

129 


130        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

come  from.  The  country  was  rich  with  coffee,  rub- 
ber, sugar,  and  dyewoods.  Its  inliabitants,  however, 
for  the  most  part,  preferred  poHticaJ  intrigue  to  culti- 
vation; its  government  was  corrupt,  and  prosperity 
had  vanished  with  the  Spaniards'  firm  rule. 

A  table  carrying  some  very  small  glasses  and  cof- 
fee-cups stood  in  the  arcade.  Don  Hernando  Alvarez 
occupied  the  other  side,  and  Kit  imagined  it  was  not 
by  accident  he  sat  with  his  back  to  a  whitewashed 
pillar,  since  he  was  in  the  shadow  and  as  he  wore  white 
clothes  could  not  be  seen  a  short  distance  off.  Don 
Hernando's  hair  was  coarse  and  his  skin  dark.  His 
face  was  well  molded,  although  the  cheek-bones  were 
prominent;  his  black  eyes  were  keen  and  his  thin  lips 
firm.  He  wore  a  plain  red  sash,  with  no  other  touch 
of  color  except  a  bit  of  riband  on  his  breast.  It  was 
obvious  that  he  was  not  a  Peninsular,  as  pure-blooded 
Spaniards  call  themselves,  but  he  looked  like  a  man 
who  must  be  reckoned  on.  Just  then  his  dark  face 
was  moody. 

"  You  have  come  in  good  time,"  he  said  to  Adam 
Askew,  in  Castilian.  "I  think  the  curtain  will  soon 
go  up  for  the  last  act  of  the  drama,  but  the  plot 
is  obscure  and  I  do  not  know  the  end." 

"  I  imagine  the  action  will  be  rapid,"  Adam  replied. 
"  Unless  you  have  changed  much,  you  are  cut  out  for 
your  part." 

"  Ah,"  said  Alvarez,  "one  gets  cautious  as  one  gets 
old.     One  loses  the  young  man's  quick,  sure  touch." 

"  That  is  so,  to  some  extent,"  Adam  agreed,  and 
indicated  Kit.  "  It  explains  why  I  have  a  partner; 
my  brother's  son.  Still,  perhaps  one  sees  farther  when 
one  is  old." 

Alvarez  bowed  to  Kit.  "  You  have  a  good  model, 
senor;  a  man  who  seldom  hesitates  and  whose  word 
goes.     A  rare  thing  in  this  country;  I  do  not  know 


THE  PRESIDIO  131 

about  yours."  Then  he  turned  to  Adam  with  a  hint 
of  anxiety.     "How  far  do  you  see  now?" 

"  I  see  what  I  have  to  do  and  that  is  enough.  The 
consequences  come  afterwards." 

Alvarez's  face  cleared.  "  You  were  always  a 
gambler,  but  you  run  some  risk  if  you  bet  on  me."  He 
was  silent  for  a  moment  and  then  resumed :  "  In  a 
sense,  I  envy  you;  you  have  a  partner  you  can  trust, 
but  I  stand  alone.  My  son  was  found  in  the  plaza 
with  a  knife  in  his  back,  and  the  man  who  killed  him 
goes  unpunished." 

**  Gaidar  was  somewhere  behind  that  deed,  although 
I  do  not  see  his  object  yet,"  Adam  remarked. 

*'  The  people  liked  Maccario  and  his  removal  cleared 
the  ground.  My  enemy  is  cunning  and,  I  think,  did 
not  mean  to  force  a  conflict  until  my  friends  had  gone. 
Now  there  are  not  many  left  and  the  time  has  come. 
Morales  died  of  poison,  Diaz  of  snake-bite,  and  Vinoles 
was  shot  by  a  curious  accident.  So  far,  I  have  escaped ; 
perhaps  because  I  was  lucky,  and  perhaps  because  it  was 
not  certain  the  people  would  choose  Gaidar  if  I  followed 
my  friends." 

"  I  have  wondered  why  you  hold  on.  For  a  presi- 
dent of  this  country,  you  have  had  a  good  nm.  I 
think  I  would  have  left  after  a  few  prosperous  years 
and  located  at  Havana,  for  example." 

Alvarez  smiled.  "  There  was  a  time  when  we  had 
money  in  the  treasury  and  I  might  have  gone;  but  it 
was  too  late  afterwards.  Part  of  the  revenue  stopped 
in  Gaidar's  hands  —  that  was  one  way  of  embarrass- 
ing me  —  and  I  was  forced  to  use  the  rest  to  under- 
mine his  plots.  Now  I  am  drawing  on  my  small  private 
estate." 

"  But  why  didn't  you  go  while  there  was  something 
left?  You  are  not  extravagant  and  do  not  need 
much." 


132        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Kit  thought  Adam's  remark  was  justified.  Alvarez 
lived  with  Indian  frugality  and  looked  ascetic;  besides 
he  had  been  long  in  power  and  had  no  doubt  had  op- 
portunities for  enriching  himself  at  his  country's  ex- 
pense. Kit  liked  Alvarez,  but  did  not  think  him  much 
honester  than  other  Spanish-American  rulers  he  had 
met. 

"  It  was  partly  for  my  daughter's  sake  I  remained," 
Alvarez  replied.  "  She  is  at  a  Spanish  convent  and  I 
would  not  leave  her  poor.  Then  I  had  my  son's  death 
to  avenge."  He  paused  and  added  with  a  deprecatory 
smile :  "  Moreover  I  have  thought  I  can  rule  this 
country  better  than  my  rival." 

"  That's  a  sure  thing,"  Adam  agreed,  in  English. 
"  Well,  you  had  bette*-  tell  me  how  you  think  matters 
are  going.  If  I'm  to  help  you  properly  I  want  to 
know." 

Alvarez  looked  about.  All  was  very  quiet;  there 
was  nobody  in  the  patio,  and  it  was  some  distance  to 
the  nearest  window  in  the  wall  that  faced  the  pillars. 
For  all  that,  he  lowered  his  voice  and  answered  in  hesi- 
tating English  with  an  American  accent. 

"  It  is  hard  to  tell ;  a  gamble  in  which  one  takes  steep 
chances!  Perhaps  half  the  people  with  an  object  are 
for  Gaidar,  and  half  for  me.  Those  who  have  none 
will  wait  and  back  the  man  they  think  will  win.  So 
far,  I  have  the  soldiers,  but  their  pay  is  behind  and 
they  are  badly  armed  and  drilled.  They  will  stand 
by  me  if  I  can  give  them  machine-guns  and  pay  off  ar- 
rears. But  this  must  be  done  soon,  without  Gaidar 
knowing.  The  next  president  will  be  the  man  who 
strikes  before  the  other  is  ready." 

"What  will  the  thing  cost  altogether?"  Adam 
asked. 

He  looked  thoughtful  when  Alvarez  told  him,  and 
then  nodded.     "  All  right.     You'll  get  some  of  the 


THE  PRESIDIO  133 

guns  to-morrow  and  another  lot  is  on  the  way.  Go 
ahead;  I'll  help  you  put  the  business  over." 

Alvarez  filled  the  little  glasses  with  a  liquor  that 
had  a  strong  spicy  smell  and  when  his  guests  lifted 
them  touched  theirs  with  his. 

"  It  is  what  1  had  hoped,  my  friend.  If  I  live,  you 
will  not  lose." 

He  drank  and  then  held  his  glass  slackly  poised 
while  he  mused.  Kit,  who  was  nearest  the  arch, 
turned  and  glanced  out.  He  saw  the  reflected  light 
quiver  across  the  trampled  sand  and  the  dusty  green 
of  the  limp  palmettos.  Then,  below  the  latter,  there 
was  a  pale-yellow  flash  and  the  president's  glass  fell 
with  a  tinkle.  A  pistol-shot  rang  out  and  Kit,  swing- 
ing round,  saw  that  a  flake  of  plaster  had  dropped  on 
the  table.  There  was  some  dust  on  Alvarez'  brown 
face  and  on  his  clothes,  but  he  looked  unmoved. 

Next  moment  Adam  leaned  on  the  table,  steady- 
ing a  heavy  automatic  pistol,  and  three  quick  flashes 
streamed  from  the  perking  barrel.  Three  small  puffs 
of  dust  leaped  up  about  the  roots  of  a  palmetto  and  as 
the  empty  cartridges  rattled  on  the  floor  Kit  thought 
an  indistinct  figure  stole  through  the  shadow  of  the 
fan-shaped  leaves.  He  was  not  certain,  because  the 
light  was  dazzling  and  thin  smoke  drifted  about  his 
head. 

He  threw  his  chair  back  and  plunging  through  the 
arch  ran  across  the  sand  and  stopped  at  the  top  of  a 
narrow  street.  Men  and  women  of  different  shades 
of  color  came  out  of  the  doors  and  began  to  talk  ex- 
citedly, but  there  was  nobody  who  looked  like  a  fugi- 
tive. Kit  went  back  after  he  got  his  breath  and  met 
two  or  three  untidy,  barefooted  soldiers  who  ran  past. 
When  he  entered  the  arch  Adam  was  coolly  reloading 
his  pistol  while  the  president  dusted  his  clothes. 

"  It  is  nothing  —  they  have  tried  again,"  the  latter 


134        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

remarked.  "  Still,  it  looks  as  if  Gaidar  felt  himself 
stronger  than  I  thought.  Now,  with  your  permission, 
I  will  go  and  give  some  orders."  He  smiled  as  he 
added  :  "  There  will  be  some  prisoners  by  and  by,  men 
my  guards  do  not  like,  but  the  fellow  who  fired  the 
shot  will  not  be  caught." 

"  What  about  the  sentry?  "  Adam  asked. 

Alvarez  shrugged.  "  It  is  hot,  and  perhaps  he 
was  half  asleep.  I  think  the  man  is  faithful,  and  just 
now  I  am  the  soldier's  friend." 

He  went  off  and  Adam  filled  his  glass  and  looked  at 
Kit.  "  I  feel  I'm  getting  old  and  want  another  drink. 
I  got  the  bead  on  the  fellow's  dark  head  and  missed 
him  by  a  yard.  Well,  I  guess  you  can't  expect  to  have 
steady  fingers  when  you've  got  malarial  ague.  It's 
a  dramatic  kind  of  country,  anyhow." 

Kit  lighted  a  maize-leaf  cigarette  and  mused.  He 
had  been  startled,  but  his  nerve  was  good  and  he  knew 
something  about  the  dark-skinned,  reckless  people  of 
the  South.  They  were  robbed  by  their  rulers,  who 
spent  the  most  part  of  the  revenue  to  keep  themselves 
in  power;  and  sometimes,  when  the  vote  was  useless, 
assassination  seemed  the  only  remedy.  But  it  was  on 
his  uncle's  promise  Kit's  thoughts  dwelt.  Although 
Adam  was  rich,  the  sum  Alvarez  needed  was  large. 
The  latter  was  honest,  in  a  sense,  and  Kit  thought  would 
not  rob  his  friend,  but  he  might  be  unable  to  make 
repayment.  In  fact,  he  had  warned  Adam  that  there 
was  a  risk  and  the  bullet  that  struck  the  pillar  was 
a  significant  hint.  The  venture  looked  rash,  but  Adam 
had  stated  that  it  was  not  a  business  proposition.  He 
and  the  president  were  friends  and  this  counted  for 
much.     The  old  Buccaneer  had  a  sentimental  vein. 

Then  Kit's  thoughts  strayed  and  he  wondered  what 
Peter  was  doing  in  the  north  country  dale.  Kit  had 
prospered  since  he  joined  Adam  and  the  latter  had 
hinted  that  he  might  be  rich,  but  he  was  tired  of  in- 


THE  PRESIDIO  135 

trigue  and  excitement  and  the  glare  of  the  South. 
He  wanted  the  bracing  winds,  and  the  soft  hghts 
that  chased  the  flying  shadows  across  the  EngHsh  hills. 
He  smiled  as  he  reflected  that  he  was  like  the  Herd- 
wicks  that  never  forgot  their  native  heaf ;  but  while  he 
longed  for  the  red  moors  and  straight-cut  valleys  he 
felt  a  stronger  call.  He  was  young  and  had  seen  the 
daughters  of  the  South;  Louisiana  Creoles  with  a  touch 
of  old  French  grace;  dark-haired  Habaneras  with 
languid  eyes,  whose  movements  were  a  delight  to 
watch ;  octoroons  ready  to  welcome  a  lover  who  was 
altogether  white,  and  half-breed  Indian  girls.  All  had 
charm  and  some  had  shown  him  favors  that  meant 
much,  but  their  charm  had  left  Kit  cold. 

He  thought  about  Grace  Osborn,  steady-eyed  and 
marked  by  English  calm.  She  was  frank  and  some- 
times impulsive,  but  even  then  one  got  a  hint  of  proud 
reserve.  There  was  no  touch  of  southern  coquetry 
about  Grace,  she  was  not  the  girl  to  attract  a  lover  and 
let  him  go,  but  if  he  came  and  proved  his  worth,  she 
would  go  forward  with  him  steadfastly  through  the 
storms  of  life.  Kit  sighed  and  pulled  himself  up. 
Grace  was  not  for  him  and  he  must  not  be  a  romantic 
fool.  He  looked  round  and  saw  that  Adam  was 
quietly  studying  him. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  partner?  "  he  asked 
and  Kit  knew  the  epithet  meant  much.  Adam  had 
not  called  him  partner  at  first. 

"  I  was  thinking  about  Ashness,"  he  replied. 

"  Ah,"  said  Adam  softly,  "  I  often  think  about  it 
too ;  the  old  house  among  the  ash  trees,  and  the  Herd- 
wicks  feeding  on  the  long  slope  behind.  The  red 
heath  on  the  fell-top  and  the  beck  bubbling  in  the  ghyll. 
Everything's  clean  and  cool  in  the  quiet  dale,  and  the 
folk  are  calm  and  slow."  He  paused  and  resumed  with 
a  curious  smile :  "  Once  I  reckoned  I'd  go  back  when 
I  got  rich  and  make  things  hum,  but  when  I  had  the 


136        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

money  I  saw  that  plan  wouldn't  work.  Those  quiet 
folk  would  have  beaten  me  with  their  unchanging  ways, 
and  Ashness  is  too  good  to  spoil.  For  all  that,  I  al- 
lowed I'd  see  it  again  before  I  died,  but  now  I  don't 
know." 

His  smile  faded  and  he  gave  Kit  a  keen  glance. 
"Why  did  you  pull  out?  It  wasn't  for  my  money. 
,You  haven't  told  me  yet." 

"  No,"  said  Kit,  with  some  embarrassment.  "  I 
hardly  think  it's  much  of  a  story,  but  if  you  like  I'll  tell 
you  now." 

After  a  few  moments  he  stopped  awkwardly,  and 
Adam  raised  his  hand. 

"  Go  on.     I  want  to  get  the  girl  properly  fixed." 

Kit  was  not  skilled  at  sketching  character,  but  he 
drew  Grace's  portrait  well  and  when  he  stopped  Adam 
made  a  sign  of  sympathy. 

"  You  have  helped  me  place  her.  Don't  know  I'd 
have  trusted  another  man's  judgment  when  he  talked 
about  his  sweetheart,  but  you're  not  a  fool.  Well, 
it  seems  to  me  the  girl's  worth  getting." 

"  Miss  Osborn  is  not  my  sweetheart.  It  is  possible 
I  shall  never  see  her  again." 

"But  you  can't  forget  her?" 

"No,"  said  Kit  quietly;  "I  can't  forget." 

Adam  was  silent  for  some  moments  and  then  looked 
up. 

"  You're  like  Peter,  slow  and  staunch,  but  that's 
one  reason  you're  my  partner.  Well,  I  know  Osborn's 
kind;  folk  we  have  no  use  for  in  the  United  States. 
White  trash,  we  call  them;  men  with  no  abilities, 
whose  foolish  pride  makes  them  think  it's  mean  to 
work.  Reckon  they've  first  claim  on  the  soft  jobs 
and  don't  belong  to  the  world  of  fighting  men.  But 
I  guess  they  listen  when  money  talks." 

Kit  said  nothing,  although  he  thought  Adam's  con- 
cluding remark  significant,  and  the  old  man  went  on: 


THE  PRESIDIO  137 

"  Don  Hernando  helped  me  on  my  feet  when  Vanhuy- 
ten  and  I  first  came  along  this  coast,  with  about  a 
thousand  dollars  and  a  worn-out  schooner.  He's  been 
my  friend  ever  since  and  now  he's  hard  up  against  it 
I've  got  to  see  him  out.  Guess  it's  going  to  cost  me 
high,  but  when  the  job's  put  over  there  ought  to  be 
some  money  left  and  I  don't  know  that  you  need  for- 
get the  girl  if  she  hasn't  forgotten  you.  Well,  per- 
haps I've  said  enough,  and  now  I'll  go  and  see  where 
Don  Hernando  is." 

Adam  got  up  and  as  he  crossed  the  patio  Kit  noted 
that  his  shoulders  were  bent  and  his  movement  slack. 
Adam  had  changed  much  since  their  first  meeting  at 
the  Florida  hotel.  He  had  some  very  obvious  faults, 
but  Kit  knew  what  he  owed  him  and  felt  disturbed. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   GOLD    ONZA 

KIT  paused  as  he  wound  the  long  silk  sash  round 
his  waist,  and  looked  out  of  the  window  of  his 
room  at  the  presidio.  Square  blocks  of  houses,  col- 
ored white  and  yellow,  ran  down  the  hill.  Here  and 
there  a  palm  rose  from  an  opening,  and  the  dusty  green 
of  the  alameda  broke  the  monotony  of  the  flat  roofs 
and  straight,  blank  walls  that  gave  the  town  an  Eastern 
look. 

Kit  noted  the  strength  of  the  presidio's  situation. 
The  old  building  stood  high,  its  battlemented  roof  com- 
manded the  narrow  streets,  and  there  was  a  broad  open 
space  all  round.  He  thought  a  few  machine-guns 
would  make  it  impregnable,  since  a  revolutionary  mob 
was  not  likely  to  be  provided  with  artillery. 

Kit  tucked  the  end  of  the  sash  under  the  neatly- 
arranged  folds.  Some  time  is  required  to  put  on  a 
Spanish  faja  and  at  first  Kit  had  thought  the  trouble 
unnecessary,  but  had  found  it  is  prudent  to  protect 
the  middle  of  the  body  in  a  hot  climate.  When  he 
was  satisfied,  he  turned  and  looked  about  the  room. 
There  were  no  curtains  or  carpets,  and  two  very  crude 
religious  pictures  were  fixed  to  the  wall.  Although 
the  air  was  not  yet  hot,  it  was  not  fresh  and  a  smell 
of  spices,  decay,  and  burnt  oil  came  in  through  the 
window  that  opened  on  the  patio. 

A  sunbeam  touched  a  small  earthen  jar,  holding 
a  bunch  of  feather  flowers.  The  jar  was  harshly 
colored,  but  the  outline  was  bold  and  graceful,  and 
Kit  knew  no  pottery  like  that  had  been  made  in  the 

138 


THE  GOLD  ONZA  139 

country  since  the  Spaniards  came.  He  had  bought 
it  with  the  flowers  for  a  few  dollars,  and  remembered 
that  the  shopkeeper  had  included  its  contents  when 
he  offered  it  to  him.  "  Todo  loque  hay,"  he  said  in 
uncouth  Castilian. 

Kit,  turning  over  the  jar  carelessly,  took  out  the 
flowers  and  as  he  did  so  something  inside  rattled  and 
a  large  coin  fell  into  his  hand.  The  coin  was  old  and 
heavy;  indeed,  he  thought  it  weighed  about  an  ounce. 
Taking  it  to  the  window,  he  rubbed  its  dull  face  and 
when  the  metal  began  to  shine  sat  down  with  a  thought- 
ful look.  Unless  he  was  mistaken,  the  coin  was  gold 
and  did  weigh  an  ounce. 

When  he  finished  dressing  he  went  to  the  little  dark 
shop.  The  shopkeeper  was  making  coffee  with  a  hand- 
ful of  charcoal  on  the  doorstep,  for  the  sake  of  the 
draught,  and  took  off  his  hat  politely  as  Kit  came  up. 

"  I  found  a  piece  of  money  in  the  jar  I  bought  from 
you,"  Kit  said  in  Castilian. 

"  Then  your  worship  is  lucky,"  the  other  remarked. 

"  But  the  money  was  not  mine." 

The  shopkeeper  shrugged.  "  What  matter?  It  is 
yours  now.     Was  the  coin  worth  much  ?  " 

"  It  was  worth  finding." 

"  Well,"  said  the  shopkeeper,  "  I  do  not  know  where 
the  money  came  from,  and  it  may  have  been  there  a 
very  long  time.  The  jar  is  old  and  I  bought  it  from 
an  Indian  some  years  since."  He  paused  and  gave 
Kit  a  keen  glance.  "  You  will  remember  that  I  offered 
you  the  jar  with  all  there  was  inside." 

"  You  did ;  it  held  some  feather  flowers.  Still,  as 
you  did  know  about  the  money  — " 

"  Then  you  want  to  give  it  back,  if  the  owner  can 
be  found!" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Kit. 

The  shopkeeper  bowed.     "  I  will  make  enquiries. 


140        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

If  you  should  need  anything  I  sell,  senor.  perhaps  you 
will  remember  that  I  am  an  honest  man." 

Kit  went  away,  feeling  puzzled  and  somewhat  sur- 
prised. It  looked  as  if  the  fellow  was  honest,  but 
Kit  thought  he  had  studied  him  and  there  was  some- 
thing curious  about  his  manner.  Besides,  a  remark 
he  made  implied  that  he  knew  the  coin  was  old. 

When  he  ate  his  eleven  o'clock  breakfast  with  Adam 
and  the  President  in  the  arcade,  he  took  out  the  coin 
and  told  them  about  the  shopkeeper's  refusal  to  take 
it  back. 

"  A  Spanish  onza,"  Adam  remarked.  "  Worth 
nearly  five  pounds  in  English  money,  but  a  collector 
might  give  you  more  if  it's  as  old  as  it  looks.  One 
used  to  see  onzas  in  Cuba,  and  native  merchants  in 
Central  America,  who  hadn't  much  use  for  banks,  liked 
to  get  them.     Now,  however,  they're  getting  scarce." 

"  In  this  country,  all  gold  coins  are  scarce,"  Al- 
varez said  dryly.  "  I  agree  with  the  shopkeeper  that 
Don  Cristoval  is  fortunate,  and  expect  he  feels  that 
my  people  are  honester  than  he  thought." 

"  I  was  puzzled  — "  said  Kit  and  stopped,  for  he 
saw  the  president's  smile  and  began  to  understand. 

"  You  are  shrewd,  senor ;  but  that  was  to  be  expected 
from  my  old  friend's  nephew.  To  begin  with,  the  man 
who  keeps  the  shop  is  not  a  supporter  of  the  Govern- 
ment." 

"Ah,"  said  Kit,  "  I  think  I  see!" 

Alvarez  bowed.  "  One  can  trust  your  intelligence, 
and  you  can  keep  the  coin.  It  looks  as  if  my  antago- 
nists were  curious  about  your  character  —  the  honor  of 
a  man  who  would  take  money  that  does  not  belong  to 
him  is  open  to  doubt.     The  experiment  was  cheap." 

Kit  said  nothing  and  the  president  filled  a  little  glass 
with  scented  liquor.  "  I  know  my  friends,  Don  Cris- 
toval, and  your  uncle  has  stood  much  harder  tests." 


THE  GOLD  ONZA  141 

He  touched  Kit's  glass  with  his.  "  Well,  I  am  lucky, 
because  I  may  need  friends  soon." 

He  got  up  and  when  he  went  down  the  long  arcade 
Adam  looked  at  Kit  with  a  smile. 

"  When  I  was  your  age  I  wouldn't  have  taken  the 
onza  back.  I'd  have  kept  the  money  and  my  faith 
with  the  president;  in  fact,  in  those  days,  I  kept  any- 
thing I  could  get.  Now  the  other  fellow  knows  what 
you're  like,  I  reckon  he'll  find  the  owner  of  the  coin." 

Adam  went  off  after  the  president,  and  Kit  pondered. 
A  few  days  later,  he  sat  one  evening  at  a  small  table 
outside  the  cafe  Bolivar.  The  cafe  was  badly  lighted, 
hot,  and  full  of  flies.  There  was  no  door  or  window, 
and  a  few  wooden  pillars  divided  the  low  room  from 
the  pavement,  which  was  strewn  with  cigarette  ends 
and  cardboard  matches.  In  front,  small  palms,  and 
eucalyptus  lined  the  dusty  alameda,  where  groups  of 
citizens  walked  up  and  down.  Inside  the  cafe  some- 
body sang  a  Spanish  song  and  played  a  guitar.  It  was 
not  cool  on  the  pavement,  although  a  faint  breeze  made 
the  palms  rustle.  The  air  was  heavy  and  a  smell  of 
aniseed  and  new  rum  hung  about  the  spot. 

Presently  a  man  who  had  been  playing  dominos 
got  up  and  came  to  Kit's  table.  He  was  a  white  man, 
with  pale  blue  eyes  and  yellow  hair,  and  although 
rather  fat  he  carried  himself  well.  Kit  had  met  Olsen 
before,  and  he  nodded  when  he  sat  down. 

"  Nothing  doing  at  the  casino  and  the  place  was  very 
hot,"  he  said.  "  Besides,  I  don't  quite  trust  the  man 
who  runs  the  bank.  Taking  them  all  round,  these 
folks  are  clever  crooks." 

Kit  agreed  languidly  and  noted  the  order  Olsen  gave 
the  half-breed  landlord.  The  fellow  did  not  look  as 
if  he  indulged  much,  but  Kit  thought  a  large  glass  of 
the  strong  liquor  was  not  often  asked  for.  As  a  rule, 
the  Americans  he  had  met  on  the  Caribbean  coast 


142        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

were  abstemious,  while  the  half -breeds  and  Spaniards 
were  satisfied  with  small  copitas  of  fiery  spirits  dis- 
tilled from  the  sugar  cane.  The  English,  German,  and 
Scandinavian  adventurers  consumed  them  freely,  and 
perhaps  the  Germans  drank  the  most. 

"  How  do  you  like  it  here?  "  Olsen  resumed  when 
he  put  down  his  glass.  "  It's  a  country  that  soon 
palls.     Are  you  staying  long?" 

"  I  can't  tell,"  said  Kit,  who  decided  not  to  state  that 
he  knew  the  country.  "  You  see,  I'm  not  in  com- 
mand." 

"  No,"  said  Olsen.  "  I  suppose  you're  a  relation 
of  the  Buccaneer?" 

"  A  poor  relation.  He  gave  me  a  lift  when  I  needed 
it." 

Olsen  laughed.  "  Well,  I  guess  he  makes  you  hustle. 
A  pretty  lively  old  pirate,  if  all  one  hears  is  true!  I 
reckon  they  don't  call  him  the  Buccaneer  for  nothing, 
but  it's  hinted  that  he's  beginning  to  lose  his  grip.  I 
see  your  copita's  empty.  Will  you  take  another 
drink?" 

**  No,  thanks ;  I've  had  enough,"  said  Kit,  who  dis- 
trusted Olsen.  He  thought  the  fellow's  careless  re- 
marks covered  some  curiosity  and  had  tried  to  leave 
him  in  doubt.  Olsen  probably  imagined  he  was  Adam's 
clerk. 

"  You're  cautious,  but  one  soon  gets  reckleSs  here," 
Olsen  resumed.  "  We  are  all  adventurers,  out  for 
what  we  can  get,  and  the  chances  against  our  making 
good  are  pretty  steep.  My  notion  is  to  have  the  best 
time  I  can,  pick  up  as  much  money  as  possible,  and  quit 
before  fever,  intrigue,  or  a  revolution  knocks  me 
out." 

**  It's  an  exciting  life,"  Kit  agreed.  "  Money 
doesn't  seem  plentiful." 

**  You  have  got  to  hustle  and  back  the  right  man. 
Since  you're  stopping  at  the  presidio,  it's  obvious  that 


THE  GOLD  ONZA  143 

Askew  s  on  the  president's  side.  Well,  I  suppose 
everybody  knows  my  employers  have  put  their  money 
on  Gaidar." 

"  Then,  I  imagine  you  run  some  risk." 

"  Sure,"  said  Olsen,  smiling.  "  Alvarez  doesn't  like 
me,  and  if  I  wasn't  an  American  citizen,  I'd  feel  scared. 
Showed  his  secretary  my  naturalization  papers  when 
I  put  up  my  shingle.  Took  them  out  as  soon  as  I 
reached  the  United  States  from  Norway." 

Kit  pondered.  Olsen  spoke  English  and  Castilian 
well,  but  his  accent  was  not  American,  nor,  Kit  thought, 
Scandinavian.  There  were  a  number  of  Germans  in 
the  country,  engaged  in  extensive  but  rather  dark  com- 
mercial schemes,  whom  the  United  States  consuls 
watched  with  jealous  eyes.  Kit  knew  that  no  one 
could  transact  much  business  without  to  some  extent 
meddling  with  native  politics,  but  while  the  other  ad- 
venturers were  satisfied  with  the  money  they  could 
get,  it  looked  as  if  the  Germans  w^anted  somethrng 
else.  It  was  perhaps  significant  that  Olsen  had,  so 
to  speak,  insisted  that  he  was  a  naturalized  American 
and  came  from  Norway.     Kit  doubted. 

"  Askew's  judgment  is  generally  pretty  good,  but 
he's  getting  old,"  Olsen  remarked.  "  I  don't  see  why 
he's  backing  the  president;  my  notion  is,  Gaidar's 
surely  going  to  win."  He  paused  and  looked  at  Kit 
thoughtfully.  "  In  fact,  if  I  was  holding  a  clerk's 
job  on  the  other  side,  I'd  consider  if  it  wouldn't  pay 
me  to  change." 

Kit  imagined  this  was  a  cautious  feeler,  made  to 
find  out  if  he  could  be  bought,  but  he  smiled. 

"If  Gaidar  does  win,  he  won't  have  much  to  give 
his  friends." 

"  He  certainly  won't  have  much  money,"  Olsen 
agreed.  "  It's  going  to  cost  him  all  he  can  raise  to 
turn  Alvarez  out,  but  he'll  have  something  to  give  at 
the  country's  expense;  sugar  and  coffee  concessions. 


144        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

and  perhaps  monopolies.  If  I  can  get  my  share,  it 
will  pay  my  employers  well  and  I  allow  they're  gen- 
erous." 

He  stopped,  as  if  he  thought  he  had  said  enough, 
and  after  ordering  another  drink  looked  up  with  a  grin. 
Two  girls  in  light  dresses  had  passed  the  cafe  once  or 
twice  with  a  male  companion  and  a  fat  old  woman  who 
wore  black  clothes.  Kit  had  not  noticed  them  particu- 
larly, because  other  groups  were  moving  about,  but  he 
now  remarked  that  the  man  had  gone  and  the  duena 
was  a  yard  or  two  in  front.  One  of  the  girls  looked 
round  and  he  thought  her  glance  searched  the  cafe  and 
then  stopped  at  his  table. 

"  The  seiiorita's  a  looker,"  said  Olsen.  "  I  wonder 
which  of  us  she  fancies.  She's  been  round  this  way 
before." 

*'  I'm  not  remarkably  handsome  and  there  are  other 
people  in  the  cafe,"  Kit  replied.  "  Anyhow,  I  don't 
want  to  gtt  a  jealous  sefiorita's  knife  in  my  back." 

"  You're  a  blamed  cautious  fellow,"  Olsen  rejoined 
in  a  meaning  tone.  "  However,  you'll  find  me  at  the 
casino  evenings  if  you  feel  you'd  like  a  talk,  and  now 
I'll  get  along." 

He  went  off  and  Kit  smoked  another  cigarette.  He 
thought  Olsen  had,  so  to  speak,  been  sounding  him; 
the  fellow  had  certainly  given  him  some  hints.  Kit 
imagined  he  had  taken  a  prudent  line  by  keeping  the 
other  in  the  dark  about  his  partnership  with  Adam  and 
their  plans. 

When  he  had  smoked  his  cigarette  he  crossed  the 
street  to  the  alameda  and  went  up  a  broad  walk  be- 
neath the  trees.  The  sky  had  cleared,  the  moon  was 
high,  and  in  front  of  the  openings  pools  of  silver  light 
lay  upon  the  ground.  By  and  by  Kit  saw  the  group 
he  had  noticed  a  few  yards  ahead.  They  were  moving 
slowly  and  although  he  walked  no  faster  he  soon  came 
up  with  them.     The  girl  who  had  looked  into  the  cafe 


THE  GOLD  ONZA  145 

was  nearest  and  the  moonlight  touched  her  face  as 
she  turned  her  head. 

Kit  gave  her  a  half  curious  glance  and  felt  some 
surprise,  for  he  could  see  her  better  now  and  thought 
her  a  pure-blooded  Spaniard.  The  Pcninsulares  were 
aristocrats,  the  girl  had  a  touch  of  dignity,  and  her 
dress  was  rich.  It  was  strange  if  a  girl  like  that  was 
willing  to  defy  conventions  and  risk  an  intrigue  with 
a  stranger.  Yet  he  imagined  he  had  seen  her  smile, 
and  she  carried  a  httle  bunch  of  purple  flowers  in  the 
hand  nearest  him.  He  looked  again  and  saw  that  she 
was  beautiful  and  moved  with  the  grace  that  generally 
marks  the  Pcninsulares  when  they  are  young.  The 
path  was  broad  and  he  could  keep  level  with  the  group 
without  exciting  curiosity,  but  he  thought  it  curious 
that  the  fat  old  woman,  who  ought  to  have  guarded  the 
others,  was  in  front. 

He  resolved  to  go  past,  and  just  before  he  did  so 
the  girl  gave  him  a  glance  that  he  thought  was  half 
amused  and  half  provocative.  Then  she  turned  her 
head  and  next  moment  he  saw  a  flower  near  his  feet. 
He  noted  a  faint  smell  of  heliotrope  and  knew  she  had 
dropped  the  flower  for  him.  This  meant  something, 
although  it  would  not  have  much  significance  unless 
he  picked  up  the  heliotrope.  He  did  not,  and  walking 
past  with  a  quicker  step,  heard  a  soft  laugh. 

When  he  reached  the  presidio  he  sat  down  on  the 
balcony  that  overlooked  the  patio  outside  his  room. 
There  was  nobody  about  and  he  began  to  muse.  It  was 
rash  to  take  things  for  granted,  but  he  thought  he  had 
been  made  the  subject  of  three  experiments.  Some- 
body had  put  a  gold  onza  in  the  Indian  jar;  Olsen  had 
tried  to  find  out  if  he  was  ambitious;  and  the  girl  in 
the  alameda  meant  to  learn  if  he  could  be  moved  by 
beauty.  Well,  they  ought  to  know  something  about 
him  now,  but  they  were  not  very  clever  or  they  would 
have  extended  their  experiments  over  a  longer  time. 


146        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

It  looked  as  if  they  thought  him  something  of  a  fool, 
and  tliis  was,  perhaps,  an  advantage. 

Kit  smiled  as  he  remembered  that  when  Janet  Bell 
tried  to  flirt  with  him  he  had  been  rather  humiliated 
and  felt  himself  a  prig.  He  was  older  now  and  had 
not  been  much  embarrassed  in  the  alameda,  although 
he  nearly  picked  up  the  flower.  His  curiosity  was  ex- 
cited and  he  wanted  to  find  out  the  girl's  object.  In- 
deed, it  was  hard  to  see  why  he  had  left  the  flower 
alone,  but  he  had  a  vague  feeling  that  it  was  unfair 
to  use  a  charming  girl  in  a  dark  intrigue.  Since  he  had 
known  Grace  Osborn,  he  had  given  women  a  higher 
place.  For  her  sake,  he  would  not  try  to  gain  an  ad- 
vantage against  his  and  the  president's  antagonist  by 
embarking  on  an  adventure  with  the  Spanish  girl. 

Then  he  began  to  wonder  whether  he  would  see 
Grace  again,  but  presently  got  up  with  an  impatient 
shrug.  Grace,  in  all  probability,  had  forgotten  their 
friendship  and  married  Thorn.  Anyhow,  she  was  not 
for  him  and  it  was  futile  to  indulge  a  barren  senti- 
ment. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   PRESIDENT'S   BALL 

BREAKFAST  was  over  and  Alvarez,  sitting  at  a 
table  in  the  arcade,  smiled  as  he  indicated  the  trans- 
formed patio.  The  broken  pavement  had  been  swept, 
the  fountain  scrubbed  until  the  marble  showed  white 
veins,  and  the  old  brass  rails  of  the  balconies  gleamed 
with  yellow  reflections  where  the  sunshine  fell.  Small 
palms  and  flowering  plants  in  tubs  stood  among  the 
pillars,  flags  hung  from  crumbling  cornices,  and  bare- 
footed peons  were  fastening  up  colored  lamps. 

*'  When  the  people  are  discontented  they  must  be 
amused,"  the  president  remarked.  "  In  Rome,  they 
gave  them  circuses  and  I  had  thought  of  a  bull-fight. 
There  is  a  Spanish  quadrilla  in  Cuba  but  I  found  it 
would  cost  too  much  to  bring  the  company  across.  Be- 
sides, I  do  not  know  if  strong  excitement  would  be  good 
for  the  citizens." 

"  A  ball  is  safer,"  Adam  agreed.  "  While  they  have 
the  function  to  talk  about  they'll  forget  to  plot." 

"  For  a  week,  perhaps !  Well,  it  ought  to  be  some 
help,  if  your  agents  are  prompt." 

"  They're  hustlers  and  know  they've  got  to  get  busy. 
I  expect  the  Rio  Negro  back  in  fourteen  days,  and  then 
it  will  be  your  business  to  rush  her  cargo  up.  Mule 
transport's  slow  on  your  swamp  tracks,  and  it's  per- 
haps unfortunate  you  didn't  give  my  friends  the  con- 
cession for  the  light  railroad.  You  might  have  found 
it  useful  now." 

Alvarez  shrugged.  "  A  railroad  can  be  cut,  and 
locomotives  break  down  at  awkward  times  when  their 

147 


148        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

drivers  are  bribed.  Then,  I  have  granted  so  many 
concessions  that  there  is  not  much  that  foreigners  think 
worth  getting  left  in  the  country.  One  must  keep 
something  to  bargain  with." 

"  Governing  a  people  like  yours  is  an  expensive 
job.  However,  since  they  make  it  expensive,  they 
oughtn't  to  grumble  if  you  tax  them  high." 

"  They  do  not  always  pay  the  taxes,"  Alvarez  re- 
joined with  a  twinkle.  "If  they  run  me  out,  they 
will  probably  disown  their  debts,  and  then  there  will 
be  trouble  v/ith  the  foreigners.  Still,  that  is  not  very 
important,  because  I  shall  be  gone  and  the  Americans 
will  not  let  the  others'  consuls  use  much  pressure.  The 
speculators  understand  the  risks." 

"That's  so,"  said  Adam  and  added  meaningly: 
"  Some  of  the  speculators  are  American." 

Alvarez  put  his  finely-shaped  hand  on  Adam's  arm. 
"  My  friend,  if  it  is  possible,  you  will  be  paid.  If 
not,  it  will  be  because  I  am  dead." 

"  I  know%"  said  Adam.  "  I'm  not  scared  to  take 
chances  and  when  they  go  against  me  I  don't  grumble. 
Anyhow,  time  is  important  and  if  you  work  this  ball 
properly  it  ought  to  give  us  another  week.  You'll 
get  the  money  for  your  soldiers  shortly  afterwards 
and  J\Iayne  will  land  your  guns." 

The  president's  dark  face  softened  and  he  smiled. 

"  I  know  whom  I  can  trust,"  he  said  and  went 
away. 

"If  it's  possible  for  a  half-breed  to  be  an  honest 
man,  Don  Hernando  meets  the  bill,"  Adam  remarked. 
"  An3'how,  he's  a  better  president  than  these  folks  de- 
serve, and  they'll  be  blamed  fools  if  they  turn  him 
down."  He  was  silent  for  a  few  moments  and  then 
resumed :  "  I  gave  you  a  share  in  my  business.  Kit, 
and  now,  if  you  are  willing,  I'll  buy  you  out." 

"But  I'm  quite  satisfied;  I'd  much  sooner  stick  to 
our  agreement,"  Kit  said  with  surprise. 


THE  PRESIDENT'S  BALL  149 

"  Well,  I  guess  you're  rash.  Your  share  isn't  large 
but  it  would  go  some  way  to  buy  an  English  farm. 
Raising  Herdwick  sheep  is  a  pretty  tame  occupation, 
but  I  reckon  it's  safer  than  backing  Alvarez." 

Kit  thought  hard  and  imagined  he  saw  Adam's  ob- 
ject. "  Of  course,"  he  said,  "  if  3'ou  want  to  get  rid 
of  me  — " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I'm  keen.  You're  some  help, 
but  you  came  out  to  forget  the  girl  in  England,  and 
not  to  stay.  Well,  if  you  mean  to  go,  now's  your 
time." 

"  The  trouble  is  I  haven't  forgotten  her,"  Kit  an- 
swered quietl}-. 

Adam's  eyes  twinkled.  "If  you  go  home,  you  may 
get  her,  and  I  allow  she's  probably  worth  the  effort, 
but  you're  not  going  to  side-track  me  like  that.  If 
you  quit  now,  I  can  buy  you  out  and  you'll  have  some- 
thing to  help  you  make  another  start;  afterwards  I 
mayn't  be  able.  You  needn't  hesitate  about  taking 
the  money;  I  guess  you've  earned  it." 

"  I  suspected  where  you  were  leading.  Still  3^ou 
see,  I'd  sooner  stay.  For  one  thing,  I  hate  leaving 
an  awkward  job  half  finished.  You're  beginning  to 
feel  the  job  is  bigger  than  you  thought  it  was  when 
you  undertook  it?" 

"  It  certainly  is,"  Adam  agreed.  "  However,  since 
you  insist,  I'll  talk  plain.  Alvarez  has  no  claim  on 
you,  although  he  has  a  claim  on  me,  and  I  pay  my 
debts.  The  last  to  fall  due  is  going  to  strain  my 
finances,  but  it  must  be  paid,  a  hundred  cents  for  every 
dollar.  All  the  same,  the  liability  is  not  yours. 
There's  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't  pull  out  while 
you're  safe.'' 

Kit  shook  his  head.  "  I  see  a  reason.  I  don't 
know  if  it's  sound,  but  after  all  one's  self-respect  is 
worth  something." 

"Oh,    well!"    said    Adam,    "we    won't    quarrel. 


150        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

You're  very  like  Peter  and  he's  the  staunchest  man  I 
know." 

He  got  up  and  when  he  went  off,  Kit,  feeling  some- 
what moved,  lighted  a  cigarette  and  smoked  thought- 
fully. It  looked  as  if  Adam  did  not  think  the  presi- 
dent would  win,  but  for  all  that  meant  to  stand  by 
him.  Although  not  fastidious  about  his  business 
methods,  Adam  had  his  code  and  was  not  afraid, 
when  friendship  demanded  it,  to  fight  for  a  lost  cause. 
Moreover,  Kit  meant  to  fight  with  him.  Then  he  got 
up  and  smiled.  Adam  meant  well,  but  he  was  clumsy ; 
if  he  had  wanted  to  save  Kit  from  sharing  his  risk, 
he  might  have  made  a  better  plan.    . 

When  evening  came  Kit  entered  the  arcade  and  sat 
down  in  a  quiet  spot  to  look  about.  The  moon  was 
nearly  full  and  flooded  half  the  patio  with  silver  light; 
the  rest  was  in  shadow  and  rows  of  colored  lamps 
twinkled  in  the  gloom.  A  band  played  behind  the 
pillars,  the  rattle  of  castanets  breaking  in  on  the  tinkle 
of  the  guitars  when  the  beat  was  sharply  marked.  The 
music  was  seductive,  unlike  any  Kit  had  heard  in 
England,  and  he  thought  it  tinged  by  the  melancholy 
the  Moors  had  brought,  long  since,  from  the  East  to 
Spain. 

At  one  end  of  the  patio,  groups  of  young  men  and 
women  moved  through  the  changing  figures  of  an  old 
Spanish  dance.  Their  poses  were  strangely  graceful, 
and  some  had  a  touch  of  stateliness.  This  vanished 
when  the  music  changed  and  the  well-balanced  figures, 
raising  bent  arms,  danced  with  riotous  abandon.  In  a 
minute  or  two  the  melancholy  note  was  struck  again 
and  the  movements  were  marked  by  dignified  reserve, 
Kit  got  a  hint  of  Southern  passion  and,  by  contrast, 
of  the  austerity  that  often  goes  with  Indian  blood. 

In  the  meantime,  he  noted  the  play  of  moving  color, 
for  the  women  wore  white  and  pink  and  yellow.  Some 
had  flowers  in  their  dark  hair  and  some  covered  their 


THE  PRESIDENT'S  BALL  151 

heads  with  a  lace  mantilla.  The  men's  clothes  were 
varied,  for  a  number  wore  shabby  uniforms,  and  others 
white  hnen  with  red  silk  sashes,  while  a  few  had  chosen 
the  plain  black,  and  wide  sombrero,  of  the  Spanish 
don. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  patio,  portly  sefioras  with 
powdered  faces  sat  among  the  pillars,  and  grave,  dark- 
skinned  citizens  moved  about  the  pavement  in  talking 
groups.  A  heavily-built  man  with  a  very  swarthy 
color  and  thick  lips  went  to  and  fro  among  them,  bow- 
ing and  smiling,  and  Kit  knew  this  was  Gaidar,  the 
president's  rival.  Kit  did  not  like  the  fellow  and 
thought  his  negro  strain  was  marked.  He  looked 
sensual,  cruel,  and  cunning.  For  the  most  part,  the 
president  stood  outside  the  crowd,  although  now  and 
then  a  group  formed  about  him.  He  was  tall  and 
thin,  his  face  was  inscrutable,  and  Kit  thought  he  looked 
lonely  and  austere. 

By  and  by  an  officer  Kit  had  met  told  him  he  must 
dance  and  took  him  along  the  arcade.  The  officer 
stopped  where  two  girls  sat  under  a  string  of  lamps, 
with  a  man  in  black  clothes  and  a  fat  old  woman  be- 
hind. At  first,  Kit  could  not  see  them  well,  but  when 
they  got  up  he  started  as  he  recognized  the  girl  who 
had  dropped  the  flower.  Then  he  tried  to  hide  his 
embarrassment  as  he  was  presented  to  Senorita  Fran- 
cisca  Sarmiento.  She  was  handsomer  than  he  had 
thought  and  as  she  made  him  a  stately  curtsey  her  eyes 
twinkled. 

Kit  imagined  the  other  girl  studied  him  carefully 
and  wondered  whether  she  knew  about  the  flower. 
It  was,  however,  his  duty  to  ask  the  senorita  to  dance, 
and  after  a  few  moments  they  crossed  the  pavement. 
Kit  had  some  misgivings,  because  the  dance  was  in- 
volved and  one  used  a  number  of  different  steps, 
but  the  girl  guided  him  through  its  intricacies  and  when 
he  took  her  back  signed  him  to  sit  down.     He  obeyed, 


152        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

for  Francisca  Sarmiento  had  an  imperious  air.  Other 
young  men  came  up  when  the  music  began  again,  but 
passed  on,  and  Kit  imagined  the  girl  had  made  them 
understand  they  were  to  do  so  since  one  or  two 
frowned  at  him. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  across  her  fan, 
"how  do  you  like  this  country?" 

"  It  has  many  attractions,"  Kit  replied. 

"But  some  drawbacks?" 

"  The  drawbacks  are  not  very  obvious  now." 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  giving  him  a  mocking  glance,  "  for 
an  Englishman,  you  are  polite,  but  it  looks  as  if  you 
were  as  cautious  as  I  thought." 

"  I'm  flattered  that  you  thought  about  me  at  all," 
Kit  rejoined. 

She  laughed  and  played  with  her  fan.  "  Oh,  well; 
we  are  curious  about  strangers,  particularly  when  they 
are  friends  of  the  president's.  One  wonders  why  they 
come." 

"  I  imagine  most  of  us  come  to  get  money." 

"  In  this  country,  one  gets  nothing  unless  one  runs 
some  risk,  and  you  are  cautious,"  Francisca  remarked. 

Kit  noted  her  insistence  on  this  trait  of  his.  He 
thought  her  remarks  had  a  meaning  that  did  not  ap- 
pear on  the  surface. 

"  I  wonder  what  grounds  you  have  for  thinking  so," 
he  said. 

"  Are  they  not  obvious  ?  "  she  answered.  "  Not  long 
since  you  hesitated  to  pick  up  a  sprig  of  heliotrope." 

"  I  durst  not  think  the  compliment  was  meant  for 
me." 

Francisca  glanced  at  him  with  quiet  amusement. 
"  You  are  modest,  sefior;  it  looks  as  if  you  had  a  num- 
ber of  virtues.  For  one  thing,  I  imagine  you  are 
honest,  and  honesty  is  not  very  common  here."  She 
paused  and  resumed  in  a  meaning  tone :  "  It  is  a 
drawback,  if  one  wants  to  get  rich." 


THE  PRESIDENT'S  BALL  153 

"  I  don't  know  that  my  character  is  worth  your 
study,"  Kit  replied  carelessly. 

"  You  are  of  some  importance,  sefior.  Although 
I  have  admitted  that  you  are  modest,  it  is  strange  you 
do  not  know." 

"  Why  should  I  know  ?  "  Kit  asked. 

Francisca  studied  him  over  her  ebony  fan,  which 
hid  half  her  face  and  emphasized  the  curious  glow  of 
her  black  eyes.  "  I  do  not  think  you  are  as  dull  as 
you  pretend.  Have  you  not  been  experimented  on 
recently  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  have,"  said  Kit.  "  After  all,  a  gold  onza 
is  not  a  great  temptation.  I  found  another  —  a  spray 
of  heliotrope  —  harder  to  resist." 

"  But  you  did  resist!  "  she  replied  in  a  quiet  voice. 

"  Yes,"  said  Kit,  fixing  his  eyes  on  her  face.  "  I 
am  an  adventurer  like  the  rest,  but  it  is  rather  a  shabby 
thing  to  try  to  gain  an  advantage  in  a  battle  with  a 
woman.  Besides,  as  I'm  not  clever,  I  might  have 
failed." 

With  a  languid  movement  of  her  head  Francisca 
looked  round  and  Kit  imagined  she  saw  the  others  were 
too  far  off  to  hear.  Then  she  made  him  a  half  mock- 
ing bow. 

"  We  need  not  quarrel,  seiior,  and  I  will  give  you  a 
hint.  Since  you  are  incorruptible,  this  town  is  not  the 
place  for  you.  Strangers  from  the  North  sometimes 
get  fever.  And  I  would  not  like  you  to  suffer  be- 
cause you  are  honest,  and  have  chosen  the  losing 
side." 

"  Ah."  said  Kit,  "  you  think  our  side  will  lose?  " 

Francisca  moved  her  fan,  as  if  to  indicate  Gaidar, 
who  stood  in  the  moonlight  near  the  fountain.  He 
was  smiling  urbanely  and  a  number  of  men  and  women 
had  gathered  about  him.  Kit  knew  they  were  people 
of  importance.  At  the  end  of  the  patio,  the  president 
stood  alone  in  the  advancing  gloom. 


154        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"You  see!"  she  said.  "Well,  I  am  engaged  for 
the  next  dance.     You  have  my  leave  to  go." 

Kit  left  her  and  sat  down  in  a  quiet  spot.  On  the 
whole,  he  thought  the  president's  antagonists  had  been 
foolish  when  they  tried  to  use  the  girl ;  she  was,  so  to 
speak,  too  good,  and  perhaps  too  proud,  for  the  part 
they  expected  her  to  play.  This,  however,  was  not 
important;  he  imagined  she  had  meant  well  when  she 
gave  him  a  hint,  although  the  hint  was  not  worth  much, 
because  Kit  thought  Adam  saw  how  things  were 
going.  Then  he  reflected  with  some  amusement 
that  he  need  not  bother  much  about  deceiving  the 
enemy,  since  Gaidar's  friends  would  not  suspect  that 
Buccaneer  Askew  had  knowingly  chosen  the  losing 
side. 

Presently  Kit  joined  Adam,  who  sat  near  a  lamp. 
His  face  was  damp  and  looked  pinched. 

"  Let's  go  and  get  a  drink,"  he  said.  "  I'm  thirsty; 
got  a  dose  of  intermittent  fever  again." 

Some  tables  behind  the  pillars  were  laid  out  with  wine 
and  fruit,  and  Adam  beckoned  a  mulatto  waiter. 

"  Tinto  and  siphon.     Bring  some  ice." 

"  There  is  no  siphon,  seiior.  We  have  sherry,  ver- 
mouth, and  some  very  good  anisado." 

"  You  have  plenty  siphon,"  Adam  declared.  "  Go 
and  look." 

The  waiter  went  away  and  Adam  frowned.  "  I 
can't  stand  for  their  scented  liquors;  I  want  a  long, 
cool  drink." 

After  a  few  minutes,  the  waiter  came  back  with 
a  large  glass,  in  which  a  lump  of  ice  floated  in  red 
wine  and  mineral  water.  Adam,  sending  him  away, 
remarked :  "  That's  a  stupid  fellow.  I  wanted  to 
mix  the  stuff  myself." 

He  drank  thirstily  and  put  down  the  glass. 

"  Tastes  bitter ;  too  much  resin  in  the  wine,  or  per- 
haps it's  imagination."     He  lifted  the  glass  but  stopped 


THE  PRESIDENT'S  BALL  155 

and  threw  the  rest  of  the  liquor  on  the  pavement. 
"  Reckon  I've  had  enough.  About  the  meanest  drink 
I've  struck.  Give  me  a  cigar.  The  taste  stops  in  my 
mouth." 

Kit  gave  him  a  cigar,  but  after  a  few  minutes  he 
threw  it  away. 

"  I  don't  feel  much  better  and  think  I'll  go  to  my 
room.     You  might  come  along;  the  stairs  are  steep." 

He  got  up  awkwardly  and  leaned  upon  the  table, 
breathing  rather  hard  while  big  drops  of  sweat  started 
from  his  forehead.  "  This  confounded  ague  grips  me 
tight.  Don't  know  when  I've  felt  so  shaky.  Better 
give  me  your  arm." 

They  started,  and  keeping  in  the  shadow,  reached 
the  outside  stairs  without  exciting  much  curiosity,  but 
Kit  felt  disturbed.  Adam  went  up  slowly,  stopping 
now  and  then,  and  stumbled  across  the  balcony  at  the 
top.  Bright  moonlight  shone  into  the  bare  room, 
where  a  small  lamp  burned,  and  Kit  saw  that  Adam's 
face  was  wet. 

"  Leave  me  alone,"  he  said.  "  You  can  come  back 
by  and  by  and  see  how  I'm  getting  on." 

Kit  did  not  want  to  go,  but  gave  way  when  Adam 
insisted.     He  met  the  president  soon  afterwards. 

"  Where  is  Don  Adam  ?  "  the  latter  asked. 

Kit  told  him  and  added  that  his  uncle  had  seemed 
to  get  worse  after  drinking  some  wine. 

"  Ah,"  said  Alvarez  thoughtfully.  "  Fresh  lime- 
juice  is  better  when  one  is  feverish.  Did  he  drink 
anything  else?  " 

"  No,"  said  Kit.  "  The  waiter  wanted  to  bring  some 
anisado,  but  he  insisted  on  the  wine." 

Alvarez  took  him  to  the  table  where  the  refresh- 
ments were  served  and  clapped  his  hands.  A  waiter 
came  up,  but  Kit  said,  "  That  is  not  the  boy." 

"  Where  are  your  companions  ? "  the  president 
asked. 


156        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  One  is  washing  the  glasses,  senor.  I  do  not  know 
where  the  other  has  gone." 

AWarez  opened  a  door  and  Kit  saw  a  man  putting 
small  copitas  into  a  pail. 

"  It  was  another  fellow  who  brought  the  wine," 
he  said,  and  Alvarez  beckoned  the  waiter. 

"  Call  the  mayor-domo." 

A  man  dressed  in  plain  black  clothes  came  in,  and 
Alvarez  asked :  "  How  many  of  these  fellows  did  you 
send  to  serve  the  wine  ?  " 

"  Two,  senor.     It  was  enough." 

"  Three  came.  It  will  be  your  business  to  find  the 
third,"  said  the  president  sternly  and  turned  to  Kit. 
"What  was  the  fellow  like?" 

Kit  described  the  n^aiter  and  Alvarez  said  to  the 
mayor-domo,  "  You  will  be  held  accountable  if  the 
man  has  got  away.  Send  Doctor  Martin  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  stairs." 

The  mayor-domo  went  away  and  Alvarez  knitted 
his  brows. 

"  Gaidar's  friends  are  bold,  but  I  had  not  expected 
this.  However,  Don  Adam's  drinking  wine  may  have 
balked  them  and  Martin  is  a  good  doctor." 

Kit  asked  no  questions,  for  he  could  trust  the  presi- 
dent and  thought  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  They 
crossed  the  patio  and  found  a  man  waiting  in  the 
shadow  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps.  Alvarez  said  a 
word  or  two  and  they  went  up.  When  they  entered 
the  room  Adam  glanced  up  from  the  bed. 

"  I  see  you  have  brought  the  doctor,"  he  said  with 
an  effort. 

"  In  this  country,  one  takes  precautions,"  Alvarez 
replied.     "  You  look  ill,  my  friend." 

"  I'd  have  looked  worse  if  I'd  drunk  anisado,"  Adam 
remarked.  "  Anyhow,  you  had  better  light  out  and  let 
Sefior  Martin  get  to  work." 

The  doctor,  who  felt  Adam's  pulse,  made  a  sign  of 


THE  PRESIDENT'S  BALL  157 

agreement,  and  then  writing  on  a  leaf  of  his  pocket- 
book  gave  it  to  the  president. 

"Will  you  send  that  to  my  house?  I  need  the 
things  at  once." 

Alvarez  moved  away  and  Adam  looked  at  Kit  with 
a  forced  smile.  "  You  needn't  be  anxious,  partner. 
I  didn't  drink  all  the  wine;  reckon  they  haven't  got 
me  yet." 

Then  they  went  out  and  left  Adam  with  the  doctor. 


CHAPTER  V 

OLSEN^S    OFFER 

FOR  a  time,  Kit  wandered  about  the  arcade,  talk- 
ing now  and  then  to  people  he  knew.  The  doctor 
had  forbidden  him  to  return  to  Adam's  room  and  the 
president  said  it  was  important  the  guests  should  not 
know  that  anything  unusual  had  happened.  Although 
Kit  watched  the  stairs  anxiously,  nobody  came  down, 
but  he  saw  the  mayor-domo  going  quietly  about  and 
servants  came  and  weni  on  mysterious  errands.  When 
he  looked  out  he  found  the  sentries  had  been  doubled 
on  the  terrace  and  one  stopped  when,  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. Kit  left  the  arch,  but  the  soldier  knew  him 
and  marched  on.  While  it  was  obvious  that  the  waiter 
was  being  looked  for,  Kit  thought  the  search  had  be- 
gun too  late. 

At  length,  Alvarez  sent  for  him,  and  although  his 
heart  beat  as  he  followed  the  messenger  he  felt  some 
relief  when  he  saw  the  president. 

"  I  have  good  news,"  the  latter  said.  "  The  doctor 
is  no  longer  anxious  and  you  may  see  your  uncle  in 
the  morning.  It  looks  as  if  Don  Adam's  caution  saved 
him." 

"  You  mean  when  he  refused  the  anisado?  " 

Alvarez  nodded.  "  It  is  a  strong-smelling  liquor 
and  one  drinks  a  small  quantity,  taking  water  after- 
wards, if  one  wants.  Don  Adam  knows  the  country, 
and  after  all  my  enemies  have  not  much  imagination. 
To  offer  him  anisado  was  a  rather  obvious  trick." 

"  I'm  thankful  they  failed,"  Kit  said  sternly,  and 
clenched  his  fist  with  sudden  passion.  "If  they  had 
not  — " 

IS8 


OLSEN'S  OFFER  159 

"  One  understands,  Don  Cristoval ;  I  have  felt  like 
that  when  the  plotters  did  not  fail,"  Alvarez  answered 
w^ith  grim  sympathy.  He  was  silent  for  a  moment  or 
two  and  Kit  imagined  he  was  thinking  about  his 
murdered  son.  Then  he  resumed :  "  Well,  we  shall 
have  a  reckoning  and  it  will  be  bad  for  the  dogs  when 
I  send  in  my  bill.  But  that  must  wait,  and  I  would 
like  you  to  dance.  I  see  Senorita  Sarmiento  is  not 
engaged  and  she  dances  well." 

"  I  doubt  if  Dofia  Francisca  would  care  to  dance 
with  me  again." 

"  Ah,"  said  Alvarez,  "  one  should  not  be  too  modest ! 
Francisca  is  a  politician,  but  she  is  a  woman.  Perhaps 
you  found  she  is  not  on  my  side  ?  " 

"  I  imagined  she  was  not." 

Alvarez  shrugged.  ''  Well,  I  do  not  fight  with 
women,  although  they  are  sometimes  dangerous.  Try 
again,  my  friend.  Just  now  we  are  all  playing  at 
make-believe." 

Kit  obeyed  and  found  Francisca  gracious.  She 
danced  with  him  and  afterwards  allowed  him  to  sit  by 
her.  By  and  by  she  remarked :  "  I  have  not  seen 
Sefior  Askew  for  some  time." 

"  He  was  not  very  well,"  said  Kit. 

Francisca  studied  his  face.  "  I  hope  his  illness  is 
not  serious.     I  thought  I  saw  Doctor  Martin." 

"  Fever.     My  uncle  gets  it  now  and  then.'' 

"  I  think  I  warned  you  against  our  fevers,"  Fran- 
cisca replied  meaningly.  "  There  are  two  or  three 
kinds,  but  all  are  not  dangerous." 

"  Some  are  ?  "  Kit  suggested. 

"  Yes ;  to  foreigners.  We  others  take  precautions 
and  are  acclimatized." 

"  Well,"  said  Kit  in  a  thoughtful  voice,  "  I  have 
not  had  fever  yet,  but  I  suppose  an  unacclimatized  ad- 
venturer runs  some  risk." 


i6o        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Francisca  played  with  her  fan  and  Kit  imagined 
she  was  pondering. 

"  A  risk  that  leads  to  nothing  is  not  worth  while," 
she  remarked.  "  I  think  it  would  be  prudent  if  you 
left  the  country  while  3^ou  are  well." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  if  I  thought  you  wanted  me  to 
go,"  said  Kit. 

"  That  is  cheap,  sefior.     I  gave  3^ou  good  advice." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Kit,  "I  really  think  you  did. 
There  are  matters  about  which  we  do  not  agree ;  but 
I  believe  you  are  too  kind  to  let  a  rather  ignorant  an- 
tagonist get  hurt." 

Francisca's  eyes  twinkled  as  she  rejoined :  "  I  like 
the  compliment  better  than  the  other.  But  I  am  en- 
gaged for  the  next  dance  and  as  you  are  intelligent 
there  is  not  much  more  to  be  said." 

Kit  went  away,  thinking  rather  hard.  The  girl  had 
some  part  in  the  intrigue  against  the  president,  and  it 
would  obviously  be  an  advantage  to  her  friends  if  he 
could  be  persuaded  to  leave  the  country  now  Adam  was 
ill.  Admitting  this,  he  thought  her  warning  sincere. 
On  the  whole,  he  liked  Francisca  Sarmiento  and  be- 
lieved she  did  not  want  him  to  be  hurt.  If  Adam  did 
not  get  much  better  and  he  had  to  look  after  things, 
he  would  certainly  run  some  risk  of  a  cunning  attack 
by  the  president's  enemies. 

When  the  guests  began  to  leave.  Kit  went  to  his 
room  and  after  some  hours  of  broken  sleep  was  told 
that  Adam  wanted  him.  He  found  Alvarez  in  the 
room  and  Adam  lying,  with  a  flushed  face  and  wet 
forehead,  in  a  big  cane  chair.  When  Kit  came  in  Adam 
gave  him  a  friendly  smile  and  turned  to  Alvarez. 

"  If  I'd  taken  that  drink  at  a  wineshop,  I'd  have 
deserved  all  I  got,"  he  said.  "  I  allowed  I  was  safe 
at  the  presidio." 

"It  is  a  stain  on  my  hospitality  for  which  some- 
body shall  pay." 


OLSEN'S  OFFER  161 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Adam ;  "  you're  not  ac- 
countable. Looks  as  if  the  other  fellow  was  too  smart 
for  both  of  us;  but  I  had  a  feeling  I'd  better  stick  to 
tinto  and  siphon.  You  can  generally  taste  anything 
suspicious  in  that  mixture  and  I've  been  doped  before. 
But,  as  I'm  an  American  citizen  and  American  influ- 
ence is  powerful,  I  didn't  expect  they'd  be  bold  enough 
to  get  after  me." 

Alvarez  smiled.  "  Our  climate  is  unhealthy,  but 
if  you  had  died  and  suspicion  was  excited,  your  coun- 
trymen would  have  made  the  president  responsible. 
That  would  have  been  another  embarrassment  and  I 
have  enough." 

"  Gaidar's  friends  are  a  cunning  lot,"  Adam  replied. 
"  Well,  I  think  your  doctor  has  fixed  me  up  for  a  time. 
What  about  your  plans  ?  " 

"  I  had  some  talk  with  my  supporters  last  night  and 
we  agreed  to  strike  when  the  Rio  Negro's  cargo  ar- 
rives. We  need  the  guns  and  money  to  pay  my  troops, 
and  when  we  get  them  we  will  arrest  the  leading  con- 
spirators. This  will  start  the  revolution,  but  it  will 
fail  if  my  blow  is  struck  before  Gaidar  is  ready." 

"Yes,"  said  Adam.  "We  can  trust  Mayne;  he 
knows  he's  got  to  hustle.  I've  fixed  it  for  him  to  get 
the  Spanish  money  at  Havana  and  that  will  mean  losing 
a  day  or  two,  but  the  old  Rio  Negro  can  hit  up  a  pretty 
good  pace  and  Mayne  won't  spare  his  coal.  I  reckon 
we'll  hear  from  him  soon." 

Adam  stopped  and  Kit,  seeing  that  it  cost  him  an  ef- 
fort to  talk,  took  the  president  away.  They  met  the 
doctor  on  the  stairs  and  Kit  waited  at  the  bottom  until 
he  came  down.  Senor  Martin  was  a  fat,  dark-skinned, 
Spanish  Creole. 

"  Your  uncle  is  an  obstinate  man  and  will  not  take 
a  hint,"  he  remarked.  "  I  had  some  trouble  to  save 
him  and  he  may  not  escape  next  time." 

"  Then  you  imagine  there  will  be  another  time?  " 


i62        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Senor  Martin  shrugged  expressively,  "  I  am  a  doctor 
not  a  politician,  but  in  this  country  much  depends  upon 
the  risk  of  being  found  out.  Senor  Askew  is  old  and 
not  strong.  One  must  pay  for  leading  a  strenuous 
life  and  he  has  had  malaria  for  some  years.  He  ought 
to  remain  in  the  North.  It  is  your  business  to  per- 
suade him,  but  do  not  disturb  him  yet." 

"  I  will  try,"  Kit  said  doubtfully.  "  You  think,  it 
needful?" 

"If  he  does  not  go  soon,  he  will  not  go  at  all,"  the 
doctor  replied  in  a  meaning  tone. 

He  went  away  and  some  time  afterwards  Kit  re- 
turned to  his  uncle's  room.  The  shutters  were  pushed 
back  from  the  balcony  window  and  the  strong  light, 
reflected  by  the  white  wall,  showed  the  thinness  of 
Adam's  figure  and  the  deep  lines  on  his  face.  His 
skin  was  a  curious  yellow  color  and  his  eyes  were 
dull. 

"  You  haven't  been  well  for  some  time  and  the  stuff 
you  got  last  night  has  shaken  you  rather  badly,"  Kit 
remarked  with  a  touch  of  embarrassment.  "  I  think 
you  ought  to  go  back  with  Mayne." 

"  You  imagine  you  can  manage  things  better  with- 
out me?"  Adam  rejoined. 

"  No,"  said  Kit,  coloring.  "  It's  a  big  and  awkward 
job,  but  perhaps  I  can  manage.     I  feel  you  ought  to 

go." 

"  It  looks  as  if  the  doctor  had  put  you  on  my  track. 
He's  been  arguing  with  me.     What  did  he  say?  " 

Kit  hesitated  and  Adam  smiled.  "  I  can  guess, 
partner,  and  perhaps  he  was  right.  Well,  I'm  getting 
old  and  have  a  notion  I  won't  live  long,  anyway. 
Don't  see  that  it  matters  much  if  I  go  or  stay,  and  I've 
a  reason  for  staying  you  don't  know  yet.  Besides,  I 
hate  to  be  beaten  and  mean  to  put  over  my  last  job." 
He  paused  and  gave  Kit  a  steady  look.  "  There's  one 
drawback;  putting  it  over  may  cost  you  something." 


OLSEN'S  OFFER  163 

"  That  doesn't  count,"  Kit  said  quietly,  "  What 
you  have  is  yours ;  I  expect  you  earned  it  hard." 

"  I  certainly  did,"  Adam  agreed.  "  I  earned  part 
of  what  I've  got  by  jobs  that  cost  me  more  than  my 
health.  I'd  wipe  out  some  of  my  early  deals,  if  I 
could.  Well,  I  don't  know  if  playing  a  straight  game 
on  a  losing  hand  will  cancel  past  mistakes,  but  I  feel 
I've  got  to  play  it  out.  My  wad  and  yours  are  in  the 
pool." 

"  It's  not  my  wad,"  Kit  objected.  "  You  have 
treated  me  generously." 

"Oh,  well!"  said  Adam.  "Perhaps  I'll  ask  you 
to  remember  that  by  and  by.  In  the  meantime,  Fve 
no  use  for  arguing  and  am  going  to  stop.  We'll  say 
no  more  about  it,  but  if  I'm  too  sick  to  handle  things, 
you'll  take  control.  You  know  my  plans,  and  that's 
enough;  I  don't  need  your  promises  that  you  won't 
let  me  down.  Now  you  can  get  out.  I'm  going  to 
sleep." 

Kit  went  away,  feeling  moved,  but  anxious.  His 
uncle  trusted  him  and  he  had  got  strangely  fond  of 
the  Buccaneer.  Adam  had  his  faults  and  his  career 
had  been  marked  by  incidents  that  were  hard  to  justify, 
but  he  was  staunch  to  his  friends.  Kit  did  not  know 
how  far  Alvarez  deserved  his  staunch  support,  and 
suspected  that  Adam  was,  to  some  extent,  moved  by 
pride.  He  meant  to  make  good  before  he  let  things 
go.  Kit  resolved  that  when  the  old  man's  hands 
lost  the  grip  he  would  take  firm  hold. 

Next  day  Adam  was  obviously  worse  and  when  two 
or  three  more  had  passed  the  doctor  looked  anxious. 
Then,  one  hot  evening,  the  president  brought  Kit  a 
letter  addressed  to  his  uncle. 

"  Don  Adam  is  asleep  and  must  not  be  disturbed," 
he  said.  "  Perhaps  you  had  better  read  this.  It  may 
be  about  the  Rio  Negro." 

Kit  opened  the  envelope  and  frowned.     The  letter 


i64        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

was  from  Mayne,  who  stated  that  he  had  met  bad 
weather  soon  after  leaving  port  and  the  racing  of  the 
engines  in  a  heavy  sea  had  caused  some  damage.  He 
had,  however,  reached  Havana,  where  he  had  received 
the  Spanish  money,  and  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
Some  time  would  be  required  to  repair  the  damage, 
but  it  would  be  risky  to  resume  the  voyage  with  dis- 
abled engines.  Kit  gave  the  letter  to  the  president, 
whose  dark  face  flushed,  and  for  a  few  moments  he 
stormed  with  Spanish  fury, 

"  This  dog  of  a  sailor  has  been  bought!  "  he  cried, 
clenching  his  hands  as  he  walked  about  the  floor.  "If 
the  money  does  not  arrive  soon,  it  will  be  too  late ;  my 
soldiers  will  not  take  our  notes.  Gaidar  has  paid  him 
to  ruin  me." 

Kit,  knowing  the  emotional  character  of  the  half- 
breeds,  let  him  rage.  Alvarez  did  not  often  lose  his 
self-control  and  he  had  some  grounds  for  feeling  dis- 
turbed. When  he  stopped.  Kit  said  quietly,  "  The 
captain  is  honest,  but  if  he  loses  his  ship  with  the  gims 
and  money  on  board,  it  will  not  help  us  much.  If 
my  uncle  is  better  in  the  morning,  I  will  see  what  he 
thinks;  if  not,  I  will  decide  about  the  orders  to  send." 

When  Alvarez  left  him  he  went  into  the  town  and 
after  walking  about  the  alameda  sat  down  at  a  table  in 
front  of  the  cafe  and  ordered  some  wine.  This  was 
safer  than  the  black  coft'ee  and  scented  cordials  the 
citizens  drank,  but  he  tasted  it  carefully  and  gave  him- 
self up  to  anxious  thought  without  draining  his  glass. 
The  insurance  on  the  Rio  Negro  did  not  cover  all  the 
risks  Mayne  would  run  if  he  left  port  with  disabled 
engines,  and  the  coast  was  dangerous.  The  loss  of 
the  ship  would  be  a  blow,  but  if  Mayne  did  not  leave 
Havana  soon  the  freight  might  arrive  after  the  presi- 
dent's fall.  Kit,  feeling  his  responsibility,  shrank  from 
the  momentous  choice,  and  while  he  pondered  Olsen 
came  up  and  occupied  a  chair  opposite. 


OLSEN'S  OFFER  165 

"Drinking  tinto!"  he  remarked.  "Well,  I  guess 
that's  prudent.  But  how's  the  Buccaneer  ?  He's  been 
looking  shaky  and  I  heard  he  was  ill." 

Kit  wondered  how  much  Olsen  knew.  He  said 
Adam's  fever  came  and  went  and  he  would,  no  doubt, 
be  better  soon.     Olsen  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"There's  no  use  in  giving  me  that  stuff;  I  know 
tlie  climate !  Askew's  going  under  fast  and  will  never 
be  fit  again.  I  reckon  the  old  man  knows  he's  got  to 
let  up,  if  you  don't.  What  are  you  going  to  do  when 
he  pulls  out?  " 

"  It  will  need  some  thought,"  Kit  answered  cau- 
tiously, since  he  had  grounds  for  believing  the  other 
imagined  he  was  Adam's  clerk. 

Olsen  ordered  some  vermouth,  and  then  remarked 
in  a  meaning  tone :  "  I  don't  have  to  be  careful  about 
my  drinks.  There's  an  advantage  in  taking  the  popular 
side." 

"  Are  you  sure  yours  is  the  popular  side?  " 

"  Wait  and  see,"  Olsen  rejoined,  "  though  that  plan's 
expensive,  because  it  may  be  too  late  when  you  find 
out.  My  employers  don't  often  back  the  wrong  man 
and  I  trust  their  judgment  now.  If  you'll  listen,  I'll 
show  you." 

Kit  signed  him  to  go  on  and  Olsen  resumed: 
"  The  Buccaneer  will  drop  out  soon  and  you'll  be  left 
to  do  the  best  you  can  for  yourself.  Well,  I  don't 
suppose  you'll  get  another  chance  like  this;  we'll  pay 
you  ten  thousand  dollars  if  you  can  keep  the  Rio  Negro 
back  for  a  week." 

"  That  doesn't  indicate  that  you're  sure  of  winning," 
Kit  remarked  dryly.  "  Besides,  I  wouldn't  trust 
Gaidar  to  put  up  the  money." 

"I  don't  ask  you  to  trust  Gaidar;  my  people  will 
find  the  money.  In  a  sense,  it  doesn't  matter  to  us 
who  is  president,  except  that  we  want  the  concessions 
Gaidar   promised,   and   they're   worth   an   extra   two 


i66        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

thousand  pounds.  We'll  give  you  American  bills  for 
the  sum  if  your  steamer  lands  her  cargo  too  late  to  be 
of  use." 

Kit  thought  hard.  It  looked  as  if  Olsen  knew  the 
Rio  Negro  had  broken  down.  If  so,  he  was  obviously 
well  informed  and  his  employers  were  persuaded  that 
the  probability  of  the  president's  downfall  was  strong 
enough  to  justify  the  bribe.  Two  thousand  pounds 
would  go  some  way  to  making  Ashness  a  model  farm, 
while  it  was  plain  that  Adam  might  lose  the  money  he 
had  hinted  he  meant  to  leave  Kit.  Kit,  however,  did 
not  feel  tempted,  although  he  wanted  to  find  out  some- 
thing about  Olsen's  plans. 

"  You  seem  to  take  my  agreement  for  granted,"  he 
remarked.  "  You  must  see  that  I  could  embarrass  you 
by  telling  Alvarez." 

Olsen  laughed.  "  You  could  put  him  wise ;  but  you 
couldn't  embarrass  us.  The  president  knows  whom 
he's  up  against.  The  trouble  is  he  isn't  strong  enough 
to  get  after  us." 

"Well,  suppose  I  refuse?" 

"  You'll  be  a  blame  fool.     That's  all  there  is  to  it." 

Kit  doubted.  He  knew  what  had  happened  to 
Adam,  and,  in  spite  of  Olsen's  statement,  imagined 
Gaidar's  friends  would  not  let  him  warn  the  presi- 
dent. 

"  Anyhow,  you  must  give  me  until  the  morning. 
I  want  to  think  about  it,"  he  said,  in  order  to  test  his 
suspicions. 

"  We  can't  wait ;  the  thing  must  be  put  over  now. 
There's  no  use  in  trying  to  raise  my  offer.  You  know 
our  limit." 

"  Oh,  well!  "  said  Kit,  "  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  let 
it  go.     There  are  difficulties,  and  if  you  can't  wait  — " 

Olsen  looked  at  him  with  surprise,  and  Kit  saw 
he  had  not  expected  his  offer  to  be  refused.  The 
fellow  had  a  cynical  distrust  of  human  nature  that  had 


OLSEN'S  OFFER  167 

persuaded  him  Kit  could  not  resist  the  temptation ;  his 
shallow  cleverness  sometimes  misled  him  and  had  done 
so  when  he  took  it  for  granted  that  Kit  was  Adam's 
clerk. 

"  You  don't  mean  you're  going  to  turn  my  offer 
down?  "  Olsen  said  sharply. 

"  You  force  me.     I  can't  decide  just  yet." 

Olsen  hesitated,  knitting  his  brows.  "  Oh !  "  he 
exclaimed,  "  that's  ridiculous !  The  thing  will  cost 
you  nothing,  and  I'll  come  up  a  thousand  dollars. 
You  ought  to  see  you  must  accept." 

"  I  don't  see,"  Kit  replied  as  carelessly  as  he  could, 
and  got  up.  *'  Since  you  can't  wait,  I  un.derstand  the 
matter's  off." 

He  went  away,  and  glancing  back  as  he  crossed  the 
street,  saw  that  Olsen's  pose  was  curiously  fixed  and 
he  seemed  to  be  gazing  straight  in  front.  Some  of 
the  customers  now  left  the  cafe  and  Kit  lost  sight  of 
him.  The  moon  was  high  and  clear,  but  the  black 
shadows  of  the  trees  fell  upon  the  walk  through  the 
alameda  and  there  were  not  many  people  about.  Kit 
would  sooner  not  have  crossed  the  alameda,  although 
this  was  his  nearest  way,  but  thought  he  had  better  do 
so.  Olsen  might  be  watching,  and  Kit  did  not  want 
the  fellow  to  imagine  he  was  afraid,  since  it  would  in- 
dicate that  he  knew  the  importance  of  his  refusal. 
Yet  he  was  afraid,  and  it  cost  him  something  of  an 
effort  to  plunge  into  the  gloom. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    president's   WATCHERS 

WHEN  Kit  was  half  way  across  the  alameda  he 
stopped  and  looked  about.  Dark  trees  rose 
against  the  sky ;  he  could  smell  the  eucalyptus  and  their 
thin  shadows  covered  the  ground  with  a  quivering, 
open  pattern.  There  was  a  pool  of  moonlight,  and 
farther  on  the  solid,  fan-shaped  reflections  of  palms. 
Nobody  was  near  him,  although  he  heard  voices  across 
the  alameda,  and  he  stood  for  a  few  moments,  think- 
ing, while  his  heart  beat. 

Since  he  had  refused  Olsen's  offer,  caution  was 
advisable,  because  Kit  felt  sure  the  fellow  had  ex- 
pected him  to  agree,  and  it  was  obvious  that  he  knew 
enough  to  make  him  dangerous.  He  distrusted  Olsen, 
who  was  not  a  native  American,  and  probably  not  a 
Norwegian,  as  he  pretended.  There  was  a  mystery 
about  his  employers,  but  Kit  suspected  that  they  were 
Germans,  and  as  a  rule  the  latters'  commercial  intrigues 
were  marked  by  an  unscrupulous  cunning  of  which 
few  of  their  rivals  seemed  capable.  This  was  admit- 
ting much,  since  the  foreign  adventurers  did  not  claim 
high  principles. 

On  the  surface,  it  was  obviously  prudent  to  take  the 
shortest  line  to  the  presidio,  but  Kit  reflected  that 
Olsen  would  expect  him  to  do  so.  It  might  be  better 
to  put  him  off  the  track  by  going  another  way  and  Kit 
was  anxious  to  know  if  he  had  left  the  cafe.  Stepping 
back  into  the  shadow,  he  made  for  another  path  and 
a  few  minutes  afterwards  returned  to  the  street.  He 
'  i68 


THE  PRESIDENT'S  WATCHERS     169 

glanced  at  the  cafe  as  he  walked  past  and  saw  that 
Olsen  was  not  there.  He  thought  this  ominous,  since 
it  indicated  that  the  fellow  had  gone  to  consult  his 
revolutionary  friends  and  Kit  imagined  they  would 
try  to  prevent  his  reaching  the  presidio.  He  seldom 
carried  a  pistol,  which  was  difficult  to  hide  when  one 
wore  thin  white  clothes.  On  the  whole,  he  had  found 
a  suspicious  bulge  in  one's  pocket  rather  apt  to  pro- 
voke than  to  save  one  from  attack;  but  he  was  sorry 
he  had  not  a  pistol  now. 

Kit  went  back  across  the  alameda,  hoping  he  had 
put  Olsen's  friends  off  the  track,  li  so,  he  would  be 
safe  until  he  got  near  the  presidio,  when  he  must  be 
cautious.  He  passed  two  or  three  groups  of  people, 
and  now  and  then  heard  steps  behind,  but  the  steps 
were  follovv'ed  by  voices  that  relieved  his  anxiety.  For 
all  that,  he  was  glad  to  leave  the  alameda  and  turn  up 
a  street. 

The  street  was  narrow,  hot,  and  dirty.  There  was 
a  smell  of  decaying  rubbish  and  the  rancid  oil  used  in 
cooking.  One  side  was  in  shadow,  and  almost  un- 
broken walls  rose  from  the  rough  pavement.  For  the 
most  part,  the  outside  windows  were  narrow  slits, 
since  the  houses  got  light  from  the  central  patio. 
Here  and  there  an  oil-lamp  marked  a  corner,  but  that 
was  all,  and  Kit  kept  in  the  moonlight  and  looked 
about  keenly  when  he  passed  a  shadowy  door.  Per- 
spiration trickled  down  his  face  and  he  felt  an  un- 
pleasant nervous  tension.  Yet  nobody  came  near  him 
and  when  he  cautiously  glanced  round  nobody  was 
lurking  in  the  gloom.  He  began  to  think  he  had 
cheated  Olsen,  but  admitted  that  it  was  too  soon  to 
slacken  his  watchfulness. 

At  one  comer,  he  saw  two  figures  in  shabby  white 
uniform,  and  hesitated.  In  Spanish- American  coun- 
tries, the  govermnent  generally  maintains  a  force  of 
carefully  picked  men,  entrusted  with  powers  that  are 


170        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

seldom  given  to  ordinary  police.  They  patrol  in 
couples,  carry  arms,  and  are  sometimes  called  guardias 
civtlcs  and  sometimes  ruralcs.  Kit  knew  he  could  trust 
the  men,  but  doubted  if  they  could  leave  their  post; 
besides  he  did  not  want  Olsen  to  know  he  thought 
it  needful  to  ask  for  protection.  Now  he  came  to 
think  of  it,  he  had  seen  the  ruralcs  outside  the  cafe 
and  at  another  corner.  Perhaps  this  was  why  he  had 
been  left  alone. 

He  went  on,  rather  reluctantly,  and  by  and  by 
reached  the  broad  square  in  front  of  tlie  presidio. 
The  old  building  was  clear  in  the  moonlight ;  Kit  could 
see  a  sentry  on  the  terrace  and  a  faint  glow  in  the 
slit  in  the  wall  thr.t  marked  Adam's  room.  It  was 
hardly  two-hundred  yards  off  and  he  would  be  safe 
before  he  reached  the  arch,  but  a  grove  of  small  palms 
and  shrubs  ran  between  him  and  the  square.  There 
were  rails  behind  the  trees  and  the  nearest  opening 
was  some  distance  off.  A  high  blank  wall  threw  a 
dark  shadow  that  stretched  across  the  road  by  the  rails 
and  met  the  gloom  of  the  trees. 

Kit  looked  about,  without  stopping  or  turning  his 
head  much.  There  was  nobody  in  sight,  but  he  some- 
how felt  that  he  was  not  alone.  It  was  a  disturbing, 
and  apparently  an  illogical,  feeling  that  he  must  not 
indulge,  and  pulling  himself  together  he  went  on,  with 
his  fist  clenched.  He  was  not  far  from  the  gate,  and 
although  he  listened  hard  could  only  hear  his  own 
steps  and  voices  in  a  neighboring  street.  Yet  his 
nerves  tingled  and  his  muscles  got  tense.  In  front,  a 
thick,  dark  mass  that  looked  like  a  clump  of  euphorbia 
or  cactus  stood  beside  the  path,  and  just  beyond  it  a 
bright  beam  of  moonlight  shone  between  the  drooping 
branches  of  the  palms. 

He  thought  the  spot  the  beam  touched  was  danger- 
ous. As  he  crossed  it  his  figure  would  be  strongly 
illuminated  and  he  wt)uld  have  his  back  to  the  dark 


THE  PRESIDENT'S  WATCHERS     171 

bush.  He  wanted  to  move  aside  and  go  round  the 
bush,  but  this  might  give  somebody  time  to  spring  out 
and  get  between  him  and  the  gate.  The  gate  was 
close  by  and  he  was  strangely  anxious  to  reach  it.  For 
all  that,  he  was  not  going  to  indulge  his  imagination. 

He  plunged  into  the  gloom,  without  deviating  from 
his  path,  and  conquered  a  nervous  impulse  that  urged 
him  to  run.  When  he  had  nearly  passed  the  bush  he 
thought  he  heard  a  movement  and  a  thick  stalk  of 
the  cactus  shook.  Half  instinctively.  Kit  leaped  for- 
ward and  felt  something  soft  brush  against  his 
shoulder.  As  he  swung  round,  in  the  moonlight,  with 
his  mouth  set  and  his  hand  drawn  back  to  strike,  he 
saw  a  blanket  on  the  ground.  There  was  nothing  else 
and  he  breathed  hard  as  he  searched  the  gloom.  The 
blanket  had  not  been  there  before. 

Next  moment,  a  dark  figure  sprang  from  the 
shadow  and  a  knife  flashed  in  the  moonhght;  then 
he  heard  a  heavy  report  and  a  puff  of  smoke  blew 
past  his  head.  The  figure  swerved  and,  staggering 
awkwardly,  fell  with  a  heavy  thud.  It  did  not  move 
afterwards,  and  while  Kit  gazed  at  it  dully  a  man  in 
white  uniform  ran  past  and  stooped  beside  the  fellow 
on  the  ground.  Kit  vacantly  noted  that  a  little  smoke 
curled  from  the  muzzle  of  his  pistol. 

"  One  cartridge  is  enough,"  he  said  coolly,  "  Your 
worship  did  not  escape  by  much." 

Another  rural  came  out  of  the  bushes  and  when 
they  turned  over  the  body  Kit  saw  a  dark  face  and  a 
long,  thin  knife  clenched  in  a  brown  hand.  He  un- 
derstood now  that  the  blanket  had  been  meant  to  en- 
tangle his  arm  or  head;  half-breed  peons  often  carry 
a  rolled-up  blanket  of  good  quality  on  their  shoulder. 

"  It  is  Gil  Ortega,"  the  rural  remarked.  "  A  good 
shot  that  will  save  us  some  trouble,  comrade ! " 

"  How  did  you  come  here  when  you  were  wanted  ?  " 
Kit  asked  as  calmly  as  he  could. 


172         THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

The  rural  smiled.  "  By  the  president's  order,  senor. 
[We  were  watching  the  cafe." 

"  But  it  looks  as  if  you  had  got  in  front  of  me." 

"  It  is  so,  sefior.  We  thought  it  best  to  follow  this 
fellow.     He  lost  you  when  you  turned  back." 

Kit  nodded,  for  he  remembered  that  he  had  instinc- 
tively avoided  one  or  two  dark  lanes  that  would  have 
given  him  a  shorter  line  than  the  streets.  Ortega  and 
the  rurales  had  taken  the  shorter  way.  He  thought 
it  curious  the  report  had  not  drawn  a  crowd,  but  al- 
though he  heard  voices  nobody  came  near  and  he 
imagined  the  citizens  were  used  to  pistol  shots.  Giv- 
ing the  rurales  some  money,  he  crossed  the  square  to 
the  presidio  and  going  to  his  room  lighted  a  cigarette. 
He  thought  a  smoke  might  be  soothing,  for  he  had 
got  a  jar. 

After  a  time,  he  went  to  look  for  Alvarez  and  found 
him  sitting  in  front  of  a  table  in  the  patio.  A  soldier 
stood  not  far  off,  but  the  president  was  alone  and  the 
light  of  a  shaded  lamp  fell  upon  a  bundle  of  letters 
and  documents.  Alvarez  worked  hard  and  had  in- 
herited a  rather  austere  simplicity  from  his  Indian 
ancestors.  Kit  thought  his  plain  white  clothes  and 
quiet  calm  gave  him  dignity. 

"  It  looks  as  if  my  enemies  meant  to  lose  no  time," 
he  said,  in  English,  when  Kit  told  him  about  his  ad- 
venture. 

"  It's  their  third  try  in  a  few  weeks,"  Kit  agreed. 
"  Don't  you  find  the  uncertainty  about  where  they'll 
strike  next  rather  wearing?  " 

Alvarez  shrugged.  "  One  gets  used  to  these  af- 
fairs ;  a  custom  of  the  country,  and  there  is  something 
to  be  said  for  it.  If  the  plot  succeeds,  it  is  an  easy 
way  of  turning  out  a  president  and  changing  the 
government.  Perhaps  it  is  better  to  kill  a  man 
or  two  than  fight  round  barricades  and  burn  the 
town." 


THE  PRESIDENT'S  WATCHERS      173 

"  In  the  North,  we  find  it  possible  to  change  our 
government  by  vote." 

"  You  are  cold-blooded  people  and  don't  understand 
the  passions  of  the  South,"  Alvarez  rejoined  with 
cynical  humor.  "  We  have  tried  your  plan,  but  one 
must  be  rich  to  buy  the  votes.  Besides,  if  one  is  beaten 
at  the  polls,  there  remains  the  last  appeal  to  the  knife. 
But  you  will  let  this  go.  We  have  something  else  to 
talk  about." 

"  That  is  so,"  said  Kit.  "  To  begin  with,  I  must 
thank  you  for  sending  your  rurales  to  look  after  me." 

"  It  is  nothing,"  Alvarez  replied  in  a  deprecatory 
tone.  "  You  are  my  guest  and  we  try  to  take  care 
of  foreigners,  because  if  they  meet  with  accidents  their 
consuls  ask  embarrassing  questions.  Besides,  watch- 
ing them  serves  two  objects." 

"  Then,  I  expect  you  know  I  met  Olsen  at  the  cafe?  " 
Kit  suggested  dryly. 

Alvarez  smiled.  "  Yes ;  I  know.  But  I  was  not 
suspicious." 

"  After  all,  one  doesn't  generally  conspire  in  a  pub- 
lic place.  In  fact,  I  don't  understand  why  Olsen  met 
me  there." 

"He  may  have  meant  to  compromise  you;  to  put 
doubts  in  my  mind." 

"  It's  possible,  now  I  think  of  it,"  Kit  assented. 
"  I  hope  he  didn't  succeed." 

"  I  know  my  friends,  Don  Cristoval.  But  what  did 
the  fellow  want?     I  do  not  know  all." 

"  Your  spies  are  pretty  smart,  but  I  expect  our  col- 
loquial English  puzzled  them,"  Kit  remarked,  smiling. 
"  However,  I  was  going  to  tell  you  — " 

He  narrated  what  Olsen  had  said  and  Alvarez  looked 
thoughtful. 

"  Gaidar  must  be  nearly  ready ;  he  has  been  quicker 
than  I  imagined.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about 
the  steamer?  " 


174        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"I'll  wait  until  tomorrow.  If  my  uncle  is  well 
enough,  he  must  decide." 

"  But  if  he  is  no  better?  ''  Alvarez  asked. 

Kit  gave  him  a  level  glance.  *'  Then  I  will  send 
Mayne  orders  to  run  all  risks  and  start,  whether  his 
engines  are  repaired  or  not." 

"'  Ah,"  said  Alvarez  with  a  bow,  "  Olsen  was  fool- 
ish when  he  tried  to  bribe  you!  I  suppose  this  is 
your  answer!  Well,  it  is  lucky  that  a  fast  schooner 
sails  to  a  port  from  which  a  telegram  can  be  sent. 
When  your  orders  are  ready  I  will  see  that  they  go." 

Next  morning  Kit  found  Adam  lying  half  awake 
after  a  night  of  delirium.  The  old  man's  eyes  were 
heavy,  his  brain  was  dull,  and  the  doctor,  who  came  in, 
made  Kit  a  sign  not  to  disturb  him.  Kit  went  out 
and  spent  some  time  writing  a  message  to  Ma}-ne.  It 
was  necessary  that  the  captain  should  know  what  he 
must  do,  but  Kit  was  anxious  to  give  no  hint  about 
the  importance  of  speed  that  others  would  understand. 
He  meant  to  guard  against  his  orders  being  read  by 
spies  in  Olsen's  pay. 

When  he  had  sealed  the  envelope  and  addressed  it 
as  the  president  had  told  him.  he  went  do\\Ti  to  the 
patio  and  found  a  peon  talking  to  a  guard. 

"  This  man  is  the  mate  of  the  Catalina  and  wants 
to  see  you,"  said  the  guard,  and  when  he  went  off  Kit 
turned  to  the  other,  who  looked  like  a  sailor. 

"  ]My  wife  lives  in  the  town  and  I  have  been  at  home 
for  a  day  or  two,"  said  the  man.  "  I  am  going  back  to 
the  schooner  now  and  was  told  you  had  a  letter  for 
the  patron." 

Kit  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket.  Although  he  had 
expected  the  mayor-domo  would  come  for  the  message, 
there  was  not  much  formality  at  the  presidio,  and 
the  fellow  was  obviously  a  sailor.  Yet  Kit  hesitated 
and  as  he  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  envelope  thought 
the  other's  eyelids  flickered.    The  flicker  was  almost  too 


THE  PRESIDENT'S  WATCHERS     175 

slight  to  notice,  but  it  hinted  at  nervousness  and  Kit 
dropped  the  message  back." 

"  Very'  well,"  he  said.     "  Wait  a  few  minutes." 

He  went  along  the  arcade  and  stopping  near  the  end 
looked  back.  The  sailor  had  sat  down  on  a  bench 
and  was  lighting  a  cigarette.  This  looked  as  if  he 
did  not  mind  waiting,  and  Kit  wondered  whether  it 
was  worth  while  to  disturb  the  president,  who  was 
occupied.  He  went  on,  however,  and  Alvarez  signed 
him  to  sit  down  when  he  entered  his  room.  After  a 
minute  or  two,  he  put  down  the  document  he  was  read- 
ing to  his  secretar}'. 

"  Well,"  he  said.  "  have  you  written  your  message 
for  Captain  Mayne? "' 

"  It  is  here.     The  Catalims  mate  is  waiting." 

Alvarez  turned  to  the  secretary.  "  ^ly  order  was 
that  the  patron  should  come." 

"  That  is  so,  seiior.     I  sent  him  word." 

"  The  man  told  me  his  wife  lived  in  the  town  and 
he  was  starting  back,"  Kit  interposed. 

**  The  patron  has  a  house  here,'"  Alvarez  replied. 
*'  We  will  see  the  man.  But  first  send  an  order  to  the 
guard  to  let  nobody  go  out." 

He  waited  for  a  minute  after  the  secretar}-  went 
off  and  then  beckoned  Kit,  who  followed  him  down- 
stairs and  into  the  arcade.  When  they  reached  it  Kit 
stopped  and  Alvarez  turned  to  him  with  a  meaning 
smile.     There  was  nobody  on  the  bench. 

"  It  looks  as  if  my  order  was  sent  too  late,"  Al- 
varez remarked.  "  You  had  better  tell  me  exactly 
what  happened?  " 

Kit  complied  and  Alvarez  sent  for  the  guard  and 
asked :  "  How  did  you  know  the  sailor  was  the  Cata- 
lina's  mate  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  he  was,  sefior.  Aftenvards.  when 
Don  Cristoval  did  not  come  back,  he  said  it  was  not 
important  and  h€  would  not  wait." 


176        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Alvarez  dismissed  the  man  and  shrugged  as  he  turned 
to  Kit.  "  The  plotters  are  clever,  but  they  made  a  mis- 
take. The  fellow  was  too  modest;  he  ought  to  have 
said  he  was  the  patron.  Well,  we  must  try  to  find 
him,  although  I  expect  we  are  late.  Now  give  me  the 
message  for  Captain  Mayne.  It  looks  as  if  our  an- 
tagonists knew  its  importance." 

Kit  gave  him  the  envelope  and  went  back  to  Adam's 
room 


CHAPTER  VII 

ADAM    RESUMES   CONTROL 

ALTHOUGH  the  shutters  on  the  balcony  window 
were  open,  no  draught  entered  the  small,  bare 
room  and  the  heat  that  soaked  through  the  thick  walls 
was  nearly  intolerable.  There  was  not  a  sound  in 
the  presidio  and  a  drowsy  quietness  brooded  over  the 
dazzling  town.  It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  citizens  were  resting  in  their  darkened  houses 
until  the  sun  got  low  and  w'ork  and  intrigue  began 
again.  Adam  and  Kit,  however,  had  been  talking  for 
some  time  when  the  former,  leaning  back  in  a  big  cane 
chair,  frowned  at  his  nephew.  His  thin  face  was  wet 
with  sweat,  but  he  shivered  and  his  hands  shook, 

"You  can  quit  arguing;  I've  got  to  go,"  he  said. 
**  I  don't  get  much  better,  anyhow,  and  can't  stand  for 
lying  off  when  there's  a  big  job  to  be  done." 

"  I  believe  I  could  see  the  job  through,"  Kit  an- 
swered quietly. 

Adam's  dull  eyes  sparkled.  "  You  might ;  I  guess 
you're  anxious  to  try  your  powers,  but  so  long  as  I 
can  get  about  I'm  in  command." 

"  It's  doubtful  if  you  can  get  about,"  Kit  insisted. 

"  I'm  going  to  try.  You'll  have  a  quiet  mule  ready 
when  it's  getting  dark,  and  I'll  ride  out  of  town ;  then, 
if  the  saddle  shakes  me,  I'll  go  in  a  hammock.  You 
can  cut  out  your  objections.     The  thing's  fixed." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Kit.  "  We  had  better  make  for 
Corrientes,  since  the  point  commands  the  port  and 
the  lagoon.  Mayne  will  stop  for  an  hour  or  two, 
looking  for  a  signal,  when  he  picks  up  his  marks." 

177 


178         THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  We'll  start  for  the  port  and  take  the  other  track 
afterwards.  There's  no  use  in  telHng  the  opposition 
where  we're  going.  I  imagine  they  don't  know  if 
the  Rio  Negro  has  sailed  or  not." 

"  For  that  matter,  we  don't  know,"  Kit  remarked. 

"  Oh,  shucks!  "  Adam  exclaimed.  "  Mayne  under- 
stands what  we're  up  against  and  he'd  pull  out  when  he 
got  )^our  telegram.  If  he  can't  use  his  damaged  en- 
gine, he'll  disconnect  and  bring  her  along  with  the 
other."  He  stopped  Kit  with  a  frown.  "  If  you're 
going  to  tell  me  the  Rio  Negro  can't  steam  across  on 
one  cylinder,  you  can  cut  it  out.  I've  taught  the  men 
I  put  in  charge  that  when  a  job's  needful  it  has  got  to 
be  done." 

He  paused  and  when  Kit  said  nothing,  went  on 
quietly:  "Well,  I  reckon  Gaidar's  crowd  will  expect 
the  boat  to  make  for  the  port.  It's  easier  to  land  cargo 
there  and  there's  a  better  road.  With  good  luck,  we'll 
have  the  goods  delivered  before  they  know  she's  gone 
to  the  lagoon.     Now  you  can  go  along  and  get  busy." 

Kit  went  away  in  a  thoughtful  mood.  He  agreed 
with  Adam  that  secrecy  and  speed  were  essential,  be- 
cause if  the  rebels  got  a  hint  of  their  plans  they  might 
strike  before  Alvarez  could  ensure  the  loyalty  of  his 
troops  by  distributing  their  back  pay.  Much  depended 
upon  which  party  got  in  the  first  blow.  In  fact,  if  the 
guns  and  money  reached  the  town  before  the  rebels 
knew  they  were  landed,  Kit  thought  the  president's 
chance  of  winning  was  good.  All  the  same,  he  imag- 
ined that  Adam,  whom  the  doctor  had  forbidden  to 
get  up,  would  run  a  dangerous  risk. 

At  dusk  a  few  barefooted  soldiers  paraded  on  the 
terrace,  with  two  mules  and  three  or  four  peons. 
Since  it  was  impossible  to  evade  the  watchfulness  of 
Gaidar's  spies,  Adam  had  resolved  to  set  off  openly 
and  not  to  give  them  a  hint  that  his  journey  had  an 
important  object  by  trying  to  hide  it.     He  mounted 


ADAM  RESUMES  CONTROL         179 

awkwardly,  with  an  obvious  effort,  and  when  he  was 
in  the  saddle  set  his  lips  for  a  moment  or  two.  Then 
he  turned  to  Alvarez  and  smiled. 

"  Tm  not  a  back-number  yet,  but  it's  luck}-  the  op- 
position don't  know  how  hard  it  was  for  me  to  get 
up." 

Alvarez  made  a  sign  of  understanding.  "  You  must 
dismount  as  soon  as  possible.  You  are  very  staunch, 
my  friend." 

*'  I've  got  to  make  good.  If  everything  is  fixed, 
we'll  pull  out." 

"  Adios,  senores,"  said  Alvarez,  taking  oft  his  hat. 
"  Much  depends  on  you." 

Somebody  gave  an  order,  there  v/as  a  ratde  of 
thrown-up  rifles,  a  patter  of  naked  feet,  and  the  party 
moved  away.  Kit,  turning  after  a  few  moments, 
looked  back.  He  saw  the  long,  straight  building, 
pierced  here  and  there  by  lights,  rise  against  the  orange 
sky,  and  the  president's  tall  figure,  conspicuous  in  white 
clothes,  in  front  of  the  arch.  His  attendants  had  van- 
ished, he  stood  motionless,  as  if  brooding,  and  Kit 
thought  he  looked  pathetic  and  lonely.  He  afterwards 
remembered  his  glance  at  the  old  presidio. 

They  rode  down  a  hot  street.  The  moon  had  not 
risen  and  the  place  was  dark  except  for  the  feeble  gleam 
of  an  oil-lamp  at  a  corner.  The  clatter  of  the  mules' 
feet  on  the  uneven  stones  echoed  along  the  walls,  and 
here  and  there  indistinct  figures  looked  out  from  shad- 
owy doors.  For  the  most  part,  the  watchers  let  them 
pass  in  silence,  and  although  Kit  imagined  news  of 
their  departure  would  travel  fast,  he  was  glad  they 
passed  none  of  the  lighted  cafes  and  open  squares.  It 
would  be  hard  to  see  who  was  riding-  the  mules,  and 
while  Gaidar's  spies  would  probably  find  out  this  would 
need  time  and  time  was  important. 

After  leaving  the  streets,  they  followed  the  road  to 
the  port  for  some  distance,  and  then  turned  into  a 


i8o        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

track  that  wound  along  a  dark  hillside  among  clumps 
of  trees.  When  they  entered  it,  Adam  stopped  his 
mule  and  got  down  awkwardly. 

"  I've  had  about  as  much  as  I  can  stand  for,"  he 
remarked,  breathing  hard.  "  Looks  as  if  we  had  got 
a  start,  but  I  reckon  the  other  lot  will  try  to  track  us 
to  the  port  when  the  moon  gets  up." 

Then  with  a  sigh  of  relief  he  lay  down  in  a  ham- 
mock the  peons  had  got  ready,  and  when  two  of  the 
latter  took  up  the  poles  they  went  on  again. 

On  the  second  night  after  leaving  the  presidio,  Kit 
sat  on  the  coaming  of  a  small  steam  launch  that 
lurched  across  the  long  undulations  rolling  in  from 
the  Caribbean.  It  had  been  blowing  fresh,  and  al- 
though the  wind  had  dropped  the  swell  ran  high. 
When  the  launch  swung  up,  a  vague,  hazy  smear  rather 
suggested  than  indicated  land  astern;  the  sea  ahead 
was  dark,  but  in  one  place  a  faint  reflection  on  the 
sky  told  that  the  moon  would  soon  rise.  Although  the 
beach  was  some  distance  off,  a  dull  monotonous  rumble, 
pierced  now  and  then  by  the  clank  of  the  launch's 
engines,  hinted  at  breaking  surf.  The  furnace  door 
was  open  and  the  red  light  touched  Adam's  face  as 
he  sat.  supported  by  a  cushion,  in  a  corner  of  the  cock- 
pit. He  looked  very  haggard  and  Kit  thought  him  the 
worse  for  his  journey. 

"  The  light's  in  my  eyes,  but  there  was  nothing  on 
the  skyline  a  minute  or  two  ago,"  Kit  remarked.  "  It 
will  be  awkward  if  Mayne  doesn't  get  across.  You 
seem  persuaded  he'll  come." 

"  I  know  he'd  start.  We  can't  tell  what  may  have 
happened  afterwards  and  there  was  more  wind  than 
I  liked.  He'll  be  here  on  time,  if  he's  been  able  to 
keep  the  old  boat  off  the  ground." 

"  Time  is  getting  short.  I  expect  the  rebels  have 
found  out  we're  not  at  the  port  and  Gaidar  will  have 
the  road  watched  when  the  news  gets  to  the  town.     It 


ADAM  RESUMES  CONTROL         181 

might  pay  him  to  risk  forcing  a  conflict  if  he  could 
seize  the  convoy,  and  I'll  feel  happier  when  the  guns 
and  money  are  off  our  hands.  It  will  be  the  presi- 
dent's business  to  look  after  them  then." 

"  That's  so,"  Adam  agreed.  "  Our  part  of  the  job's 
to  land  the  goods  and  it's  unlucky  the  tides  are  small. 
There  won't  be  much  water  on  the  shoals  and  although 
we'll  have  an  extra  few  inches  to-morrow,  I  don't 
want  Mayne  to  wait." 

Kit  pondered,  for  he  had  taken  some  soundings  when 
coming  out.  They  were  probably  not  correct,  because 
the  launch  had  rolled  among  the  white  combers  that 
swept  the  shoals  while  he  used  the  lead,  but  the  aver- 
age depth  was  about  the  steamer's  draught  in  her  usual 
trim.  Mayne,  however,  ought  to  know  what  depth 
to  expect,  and  Kit  hoped  he  had  loaded  the  vessel  to 
correspond.  By  and  by  the  mulatto  fireman  shut  the 
furnace  door,  the  puzzling  light  was  cut  off,  and  Kit 
searched  the  horizon.  For  some  minutes,  he  saw  noth- 
ing; and  then  a  trail  of  red  fire  soared  into  the  sky. 

"  He's  brought  her  across,"  said  Adam.  "  Get  our 
rocket  off." 

The  rocket  swept  up  in  a  wide  curve  and  burst  into 
crimson  lights.  After  this  there  was  darkness  for  a 
time  until  an  indistinct  black  object  appeared  against 
the  brightening  sky.  Then  the  launch  sank  back  into 
the  trough,  where  the  gloom  was  only  broken  by  the 
glimmer  of  the  phosphorescence  that  spangled  the 
water.  When  she  swung  up  on  the  top  of  the  next 
swell  the  steamer  was  plainer  and  Kit  blew  the  whistle 
as  he  changed  their  course. 

When  the  moon  rose  slowly  out  of  the  sea  he  stopped 
the  clanking  engine  and  the  launch  reeled  up  and  down, 
some  fifty  yards  off  the  steamer.  The  Rio  Negro  car- 
ried no  lights,  but  the  phosphorescence  shone  upon  her 
wet  plates  as  she  rolled  them  out  of  the  water.  Her 
side  rose  high  and  black,  and  then  sank  until  her  rail 


i82         THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

was  nearly  level  with  the  spangled  foam.  Indistinct 
figures  scrambled  about  her  deck,  and  when  Kit  sheered 
the  launch  in,  her  ladder  went  down  with  a  rattle.  A 
half-breed  on  board  the  launch  caught  it  with  his  boat- 
hook,  and  Adam  stood  at  the  bow,  waiting  for  a  chance 
to  jump  upon  the  narrow  platform  that  lurched  up 
above  him  and  then  plunged  into  the  sea.  Kit  felt 
anxious.  He  did  not  think  Adam  was  equal  to  the 
effort  and  dreaded  the  consequences  of  the  shock  if 
he  missed  and  fell. 

"  Stand  by !  "  he  shouted  to  the  seaman  on  the  lad- 
der when  the  Rio  Negro  steadied  after  a  violent  roll; 
and  then  touched  Adam.  '*Now;  before  she  goes 
back!" 

Adam,  jumping  awkwardly,  seized  the  seaman's 
hand,  and  Kit,  leaning  out,  pushed  him  on  to  the  plat- 
form as  it  began  to  sink.  Then  he  jumped  and  com- 
ing down  in  a  foot  or  two  of  water  helped  Adam  to 
the  deck,  Mayne  met  them  at  the  gangway  and  took 
them  to  his  room,  where  Adam  sat  down  and  gasped. 
When  Mayne  poured  out  some  liquor  he  clutched  the 
glass  with  a  shaking  hand.  After  he  drained  it  he 
was  silent  for  a  moment  or  two;  and  then  asked  in  a 
strained  voice :     "  Have  you  brought  the  goods  ?  " 

"  Got  them  all.  We  hadn't  a  nice  trip.  Don't 
know  how  Finlay  kept  her  going  and  I  thought  I'd 
lost  her  on  Tortillas  reef;  but  we  can  talk  about  that 
afterwards." 

Adam  made  a  sign  of  satisfaction  and  leaned  back 
feebly,  "  It's  some  relief  to  know  the  goods  are 
here." 

"  Finlay  can  drive  her  seven  knots  and  has  plenty 
steam,"  Mayne  said  to  Kit.  "  I'm  bothered  about  the 
water;  there  won't  be  too  much." 

Kit  asked  the  vessel's  draught  and  looked  thought- 
ful when  he  heard  what  it  was. 

"  I  can't  guarantee  my  soundings,  but  imagine  she 


ADAM  RESUMES  CONTROL         183 

won't  float  across  and  an  ugly  sea  is  running  on  the 
bar." 

"  She'll  certainly  hit  the  bottom  and  the  chances 
are  she  hits  it  hard,"  Mayne  remarked  when  Kit  told 
him  the  depth  he  had  got.  "  I  expect,  too,  the  mist  will 
drift  off  from  the  mangroves  with  the  land-breeze  and 
hide  our  marks."  He  paused  and  glanced  at  Adam, 
who  leaned  back  in  a  corner  with  his  eyes  half  shut. 

"But  I  reckon  we  have  got  to  take  her  in?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Adam  dully.  "Leave  me  alone;  you 
can  fix  things  with  Kit." 

Mayne  beckoned  Kit  and  they  went  to  the  bridge. 
The  moon  had  risen  and  threw  a  belt  of  silver  light 
across  the  sea,  but  it  was  a  half  moon  and  would  not 
help  them  much.  Ahead,  in  the  distance,  gray  haze 
obscured  the  water,  and  the  dull  roar  that  came  out  of 
the  mist  had  become  distinct.  Mayne  rang  his  tele- 
graph to  reduce  the  speed. 

"  So  far  as  I  can  reckon,  it  won't  be  high-water  for 
most  two  hours,  and  on  this  coast  you  can't  calculate 
just  how  much  the  tide  will  rise.  There's  going  to  be 
trouble  if  we  find  it  shoaler  than  we  expect  and  I  had 
plenty  trouble  coming  along.  Finlay  could  hardly 
drive  her  four  knots  in  last  night's  breeze  and  the  cur- 
rent put  us  on  Tortillas  reef.  She  stopped  there 
twenty  minutes,  jambed  down  on  her  bilge  while  the 
sea  came  on  board." 

Kit  noted  two  boats  that  had  obviously  been  damaged 
while  the  steamer  hammered  on  the  reef,  and  the 
white  crust  of  salt  on  the  funnel ;  but  Mayne  resumed : 
"  Say,  the  old  man  looks  shaky ;  never  seen  him  like 
that.     You  want  to  get  him  home." 

"  He  won't  go.  However,  he's  rather  worse  to- 
night. I  think  he  was  anxious  about  your  turning  up 
in  time  to  catch  the  tide.  The  journey  tried  him  and 
now  a  reaction  has  begun." 

"  Well,  I  allow  there's  not  much  use  in  arguing  if 


i84        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

he  means  to  stay;  but  he  needn't  have  bothered  about 
my  getting  across.  When  the  orders  came,  I  knew  I 
had  to  bring  her  or  pile  her  up.  What  Askew  says 
goes." 

They  were  silent  for  a  time  while  the  Rio  Negro, 
with  engines  throbbing  slowly,  crept  towards  the  coast. 
The  land  breeze  brought  off  a  steamy  heat  and  a  sour 
smell.  The  long  undulations  were  wrinkled  by  small 
waves,  and  a  thin  low  haze  that  obscured  the  moon 
spread  across  the  water.  Kit,  looking  up  now  and 
then,  could  see  the  mastheads  swing  across  the  sky. 
There  was,  however,  nothing  to  be  seen  ahead  but  a 
gray  Hne  that  moved  back  as  the  steamer  went  on. 

"  It's  sure  a  blamed  bad  night  for  our  job,"  Mayne 
remarked  as  he  gazed  towards  the  hidden  land.  "  I'm 
glad  I  told  your  dagos  to  burn  a  flare  when  they  hit  the 
channel." 

Kit  said  nothing.  The  launch  had  vanished,  and 
there  was  no  guiding  light  in  the  mist.  The  turmoil 
of  the  surf  had  got  louder  and  rang  through  the  dark 
like  the  roar  of  a  heavy  train.  Presently  Mayne  or- 
dered a  sounding  to  be  taken  and  looked  at  Kit  when 
the  leadsman  called  the  depth. 

"  A  foot  less  than  we  reckoned,  and  there  won't  be 
much  rise.  I  don't  like  it,  Mr.  Askew,  and  if  my  em- 
ployer was  not  your  uncle,  I'd  heave  the  old  boat 
round." 

Kit  nodded  sympathetically.  He  felt  he  hated  the 
smothering  haze  that  rolled  in  front  and  hid  the  dan- 
gers, but  they  must  go  on  and  trust  to  luck.  He  knew 
Adam's  plans  and  no  arguments  would  shake  his  re- 
solve. Half  an  hour  later  a  twinkle  broke  out  some 
distance  ahead  and  Mayne  rang  his  telegraph. 

"  I'm  thankful  for  that,  anyhow,"  he  remarked. 
"  We'll  let  her  go,  but  I  have  my  doubts  about  what 
will  happen  next." 


ADAM  RESUMES  CONTROL         185 

The  throb  of  engines  quickened,  the  gurgle  of  water 
got  louder  at  the  bows,  and  the  Rio  Negro,  lurching 
sharply,  went  shorewards  with  tide  and  swell.  The 
twinkle  vanished  and  reappeared,  to  starboard  now, 
and  chains  rattled  as  the  quartermaster  pulled  round 
the  wheel.  Then  the  light  faded  and  they  were  left 
without  a  guide  in  the  puzzling  haze.  Ten  minutes 
afterwards  there  was  a  heavy  shock,  and  a  rush  of 
foam  swept  the  rail  as  the  steamer  listed  down.  She 
lifted  and  struck  again  with  a  jar  that  tried  Kit's  nerve. 
A  hoarse  shout  came  from  the  forecastle  and  men  ran 
about  the  slanted  deck  as  a  frothing  sea  rolled  on  board. 
Mayne,  clutching  his  telegraph,  beckoned  Kit. 

"  Bring  Mr.  Askew  up.  He's  got  to  tell  me  what  I 
am  to  do." 

Kit  met  Adam  clumsily  climbing  the  ladder  and 
when  he  helped  him  to  the  bridge  Mayne  remarked : 
"  She's  on  the  tongue  shoal.  Don't  know  if  I  can  back 
her  off  and  steam  out  to  deep  water,  but,  if  you  con- 
sent, I  want  to  try." 

"  I  won't  consent,"  said  Adam.  "We're  going  in! 
What's  that  light  to  starboard  ?  " 

"  The  launch ;  she's  in  the  channel.  I  doubt  if  there's 
water  enough  for  us,  if  we  can  get  there." 

"  Then,  shove  her  across  the  sand  or  let  her  go  to 
bits." 

Mayne  rang  the  telegraph  and  touched  his  cap. 
"  Very  well !  She's  your  ship,  and  we  have  some 
sound  boats  left." 

For  the  next  ten  minutes  Kit  clung  to  the  bridge. 
He  wanted  to  help  Adam  into  the  pilot-house,  but  the 
old  man  waved  him  off.  Clouds  of  spray  swept  the 
vessel  and  made  it  hard  to  see  her  rail  where  the  white 
combers  leaped.  Now  and  then  one  broke  on  board 
and  poured  in  a  foaming  torrent  across  the  slanted 
deck;  she  trembled  horribly  as  she  struck  the  sand. 


i86        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

It  looked  as  if  she  were  driving  sideways  across  the 
shoal,  but  the  flare  on  the  launch  had  gone  out  and 
Kit  doubted  if  Mayne  knew  where  he  was. 

Sometimes  the  tall,  black  forecastle  swung  in  a 
quarter-circle;  sometimes  the  stern  went  round.  For 
the  most  part,  however,  she  lay  with  her  side  to  the 
rollers  and  it  was  plain  that  the  struggle  could  not  last 
long.  If  they  did  not  get  off  in  a  few  minutes,  rivets 
would  smash  and  butts  open,  and  one  must  take  one's 
chances  in  the  boats.  Two  were  damaged,  but  others 
might  be  launched,  and  Kit  was  relieved  to  note  that 
two  or  three  deck-hands  moved  about  as  if  engaged  in 
clearing  the  davit-tackles.  He  sympathized  with  the 
men,  although  he  did  not  think  Mayne  had  given  them 
orders. 

In  the  meantime,  Adam  clung  to  the  rails,  swaying 
when  the  bridge  slanted,  but  looking  unmoved,  and  Kit 
knew  that  so  long  as  the  Rio  Negro's  engines  turned 
he  would  go  on.  It  was  not  for  nothing  men  called 
him  the  Buccaneer,  and  now  that  he  was  staking  his 
life  and  fortune  on  a  hazardous  chance  there  was  some- 
thing daunting  about  his  grim  resolve. 

A  sea  rolled  up  astern  and  buried  the  poop.  Kit  felt 
the  steamer  lift  and  turn,  as  if  on  a  pivot  at  the  middle 
of  her  length.  The  after-deck  was  full  of  water,  but 
the  bows  were  high  and  going  round,  and  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  curious  shiver  that  ran  through  the  strain- 
ing hull  as  she  shook  herself  free  from  the  sand.  She 
crawled  forward,  stopped,  and  moved  again  with  a 
staggering  lurch.  The  next  sea  swept  her  on,  but  she 
did  not  strike,  and  after  a  few  moments  Kit  knew 
she  had  crossed  the  top  of  the  shoal. 

Her  whistle  shrieked  above  the  turmoil  of  the  sea, 
a  light  blinked  in  the  spray,  and  she  lurched  on  before 
the  tumbling  combers.  By  and  by  the  water  got  smooth 
and  an  indistinct  dark  mass  grew  out  of  the  mist. 


ADAM  RESUMES  CONTROL         187 

Mayne.  who  was  pacing  up  and  down  his  bridge, 
stopped  near  Kit  with  a  reckless  laugh. 

*'  This  is  the  kind  of  navigation  they  break  skippers 
for!  If  those  are  the  mangroves  on  False  Point,  I 
may  take  her  in;  if  they're  not,  we'll  make  a  hole  in  the 
forest." 

Kit  looked  about,  but  could  not  see  the  launch.  The 
dark  mass  was  a  thick  belt  of  trees,  but  he  did  not 
know,  and  did  not  think  Mayne  knew,  where  they  were, 
and  the  easy  motion  indicated  that  the  tide  was  carry- 
ing the  steamer  on.  Much  to  his  relief,  the  indistinct 
wall  of  forest  seemed  to  bend  back,  away  from  the  sea. 
It  looked  as  if  they  were  entering  the  lagoon;  and  then 
he  heard  the  telegraph  and  the  rattle  of  rudder  chains. 

The  screw  shook  the  vessel  as  it  spun  hard-astern, 
and  the  bows  began  to  swing.  It  was,  however,  too 
late ;  the  forecastle  would  not  clear  the  mangroves,  and 
Kit  knew  the  water  was  deep  among  their  roots. 
Shouting  to  Adam,  he  seized  the  rails  and  waited  for 
the  shock.  It  came,  for  there  was  a  crash,  and  a 
noise  of  branches  breaking.  The  steamer  rolled,  re- 
coiled, and  forged  on  into  the  forest. 

Some  minutes  later,  Mayne  stopped  his  engines  and 
there  was  a  curious  quietness  as  he  came  up  to  Adam. 

"  We  are  fast  in  the  mud,  sir.  Although  she'll  take 
a  list  when  the  tide  falls,  we  may  be  able  to  work  cargo. 
I'll  lay  out  an  anchor  in  the  morning  and  try  to  heave 
her  off,  but  I  calculate  it  will  be  full  moon  before  she 
floats." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   MANGROVE   SWAMP 

EARLY  next  morning,  Kit  went  on  deck.  Although 
it  was  hot,  everything  dripped  with  damp,  and 
sour-smelHng  mist  drifted  past  the  ship.  Her  masts 
and  funnels  slanted  and  Kit  could  hardly  keep  his  foot- 
ing on  the  inclined  deck.  When  he  looked  over  the 
rail,  the  rows  of  wet  plates  ran  up  like  a  wall  above 
broken  mangrove  roots  and  pools  of  slime.  Smashed 
trunks  and  branches  were  piled  against  the  bows  and 
dingy  foliage  overhung  the  vessel's  lower  side. 

Kit  walked  aft.  The  screw  was  uncovered,  and 
shallow,  muddy  water,  dotted  by  floating  scum,  sur- 
rounded the  stern,  which  projected  into  the  lagoon. 
In  one  place,  however,  a  mud-bank  touched  the  bilge, 
and  three  or  four  men,  standing  on  planks,  cautiously 
tried  its  firmness.  They  were  wet  and  splashed,  and 
one  who  ventured  a  few  yards  from  the  plank  sank  to 
his  waist.  The  others  pulled  him  out  and  then  they 
climbed  a  rope  ladder.  Kit  thought  the  experiment 
proved  that  nothing  useful  could  be  done  until  the  tide 
flowed  round  the  ship. 

Another  gang  was  moving  a  kedge-anchor  across 
the  deck,  while  a  few  more  coiled  heavy  ropes  beside 
the  winch.  Mayne  obviously  meant  to  try  to  heave 
the  vessel  off,  but  Kit  thought  he  would  not  succeed 
until  the  moon  was  full.  In  the  meantime,  cargo  could 
only  be  landed  when  there  was  water  enough  to  float 
boats  up  to  the  ship,  and  Kit  glanced  across  the  lagoon. 
There  were  no  mangroves  on  the  other  side,  although 
thick  timber  grew  close  down  to  a  belt  of  sand.     Below 

i88 


THE  MANGROVE  SWAMP  189 

this  was  mud,  across  which  he  imagined  heavy  goods 
could  not  be  carried.  The  heat  and  steamy  damp  made 
him  languid,  and  he  went  to  Adam's  room.  Adam 
had  got  up  and  sat,  half-dressed,  on  the  lower  berth 
with  a  glass  on  the  floor  close  by.  His  hands  shook 
and  there  was  no  color  in  his  lips. 

"  It's  rather  early  for  a  strong  cocktail,  but  I  felt  I 
needed  bracing,"  he  said.  "  What  do  you  think  about 
our  chance  of  getting  her  off?  " 

"  I  imagine  it's  impossible  for  another  week  and 
don't  see  how  we'll  get  the  cargo  out." 

"  Don't  you?  "  said  Adam  grimly.  "  It  has  got  to 
be  done.  If  Mayne  finds  the  job  too  big,  I'll  put  it 
through  myself." 

"  You  ought  to  leave  before  the  malaria  knocks  you 
down,"  Kit  rejoined.  "  If  I  had  the  power,  I'd  make 
you  go." 

Adam  smiled.  "  You  mean  well,  boy,  but  you  don't 
understand,  and  if  you  plot  with  Mayne  to  bluff  me, 
I'll  surely  break  you  both.  Now  go  and  see  if  the 
president's  men  have  arrived.  Then  you  can  tell 
Mayne  to  rig  his  derricks  and  take  the  hatches  off." 

Kit  went  out  and  after  a  time  three  or  four  figures 
appeared  among  the  trees  across  the  lagoon.  They 
came  down  to  the  mud,  but  when  Kit  shouted,  asking 
if  they  could  launch  a  canoe,  one  shrugged  and  they 
turned  back. 

"  I  reckon  the  old  man  means  us  to  get  busy  with 
the  cargo,"  Mayne  remarked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Kit.  "  I  understand  he's  ready  to  un- 
dertake the  job  if  we  find  it  too  much  for  us." 

"  He's  a  hustler,  sure !  So  far  as  I  can  see,  the 
thing  can't  be  done,  but  if  Askew  wants  it  done,  I 
guess  we've  got  to  try.  We'll  carry  out  the  kedge 
and  make  fast  a  warp  or  two  when  the  tide  flows. 
He'll  expect  it,  though  I  don't  reckon  much  on  our 
chance  of  floating  her." 


IQO         THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

By  degrees  the  muddy  water  crawled  up  the  plates 
and  the  Rio  Negro  rose  upright;  the  haze  melted  and 
it  got  fiercely  hot  when  the  sun  shone.  A  canoe, 
manned  by  half-breed  peons,  crossed  the  lagoon,  and 
with  heavy  labor  the  kedge-anchor  was  hoisted  out  and 
hung  between  two  boats.  Half -naked  men  toiled  at 
the  oars  until  the  lashings  were  cut  and  the  boats  rocked 
as  the  anchor  sank.  Then  their  crews,  dragging  large 
stiff  warps,  forced  their  way  among  the  mangrove 
roots  and  made  the  ropes  fast  where  they  could.  They 
came  back  exhausted,  dripping  with  water  and  daubed 
by  slime,  and  Mayne  went  to  the  bridge. 

The  sun  pierced  the  narrow  awning  and  there  was 
not  a  breath  of  wind.  The  lagoon  shone  with  daz- 
zling brightness  and  the  iron  deck  threw  up  an  intoler- 
able heat.  Kit  felt  the  perspiration  soak  his  thin 
clothes,  and  big  drops  of  moisture  trickled  down 
Adam's  yellow  face  as  he  sat  with  half-shut  eyes,  in 
a  canvas  chair.  By  and  by  he  took  out  his  watch,  and 
Kit  noted  that  he  moved  it  once  or  twice  before  he 
could  see  the  time. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  get  busy?  "  he  asked  Mayne. 

The  telegraph  clanged,  the  engines  panted,  and  the 
Rio  Negro  began  to  shake  as  the  screw  revolved. 
There  was  no  movement  but  the  racking  throb,  until 
Mayne  raised  his  hand  and  winch  and  windlass  rattled. 
Puffs  of  steam  blew  about,  the  cable  rose  from  the 
water  with  a  jar,  and  the  warps  ran  slowly  across  the 
winch-drums,  foul  with  greasy  scum. 

"  Hold  on  to  it !  "  Mayne  shouted.  "  Get  in  the  last 
inch!" 

His  voice  was  drowned  by  the  rattle  of  chain  and 
hiss  of  steam,  but  the  uproar  began  to  die  away  and 
the  sharp  clatter  of  small  engines  changed  to  spasmodic 
jars.  Then  somebody  shouted,  there  was  a  crash,  and 
the  end  of  a  broken  warp,  flying  back,  tore  up  the 
dazzling  water.     The  windlass  stopped,  and  a  few  mo- 


THE  MANGROVE  SWAMP  191 

ments  later  a  clump  of  mangroves  swayed.  Kit  heard 
green  wood  crack,  as  a  rope  that  had  stretched  and 
strained  began  to  move.     Then  Mayne  raised  his  hand. 

"  Let  go;  stop  her!     You're  pulling  up  the  trees." 

There  was  a  sudden  quietness  except  for  the  insistent 
throb  of  the  screw,  and  Mayne  turned  to  Adam. 

"If  the  cable  holds,  I  can  smash  the  windlass,  but 
I  can't  heave  her  off." 

"  Very  well.  You  quit  and  get  the  cargo  out. 
Better  hustle  while  she's  upright." 

Mayne  went  down  the  ladder  and  when  he  unlocked 
the  iron  door  of  the  after  wheel-house  a  gang  of  men 
brought  out  a  row  of  small-boxes.  A  mulatto  from 
the  beach,  w^ho  wore  neat  white  clothes  and  an  expen- 
sive hat,  counted  the  boxes  and  then  gave  Adam  a 
receipt. 

"  Don  Hernando  will  be  glad  to  get  these  goods  and 
we  will  start  at  once,"  he  said.  "  Although  I  have  a 
guard,  it  will  be  safe  to  reach  the  town  before  the 
president's  enemies  know." 

"  That  would  be  prudent,  seiior,"  Adam  agreed,  and 
turned  to  Kit  when  the  mulatto  went  away. 

"  I  have  done  my  part  and  it's  Alvarez's  business  to 
see  the  chests  get  through.  Well,  we  have  both  taken 
some  chances  since  he  was  a  Customs-clerk  and  I  a 
contrabandista  running  the  old  Mercedes,  but  I  reckon 
this  is  my  rashest  plunge.  Anyhow,  if  I  get  my  money 
back  or  not,  I've  put  up  the  goods.  Now  you  can  tell 
Mayne  to  break  out  the  guns." 

Mayne  gave  orders,  derrick-booms  swung  from  the 
stumpy  masts,  pulleys  rattled,  and  heavy  cases  rose 
from  the  holds.  The  boats,  however,  could  not  get 
abreast  of  the  forward  hatch  and  the  cases  had  to  be 
moved  across  slippery  iron  plates  to  the  after  derrick 
that  hoisted  them  overboard.  It  was  exhausting  work, 
and  the  heat  was  intolerable.  The  white  crew  threw 
off  their  soaked  clothes  and  toiled  half-naked  in  the 


192        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

sun  that  burned  their  skin,  but  Adam  left  the  awning 
and  went  about  in  the  glare. 

At  first,  the  mates  grumbled  with  indignant  sur- 
prise. Their  employer  was  breaking  rules;  working 
the  cargo  was  their  business  and  nobody  else  must 
meddle.  Besides,  they  had  not  met  a  shipowner  able 
to  superintend  the  job.  One  who  ventured  a  protest, 
however,  stopped  in  awkward  embarrassment  when 
Adam  gave  him  a  look,  and  the  others  soon  admitted 
that  few  captains  knew  more  about  derricks  and  slings. 
Nevertheless,  Kit  was  anxious  as  he  watched  his  uncle. 
He  knew  Adam  would  pay  for  this  and  wondered  how 
long  he  could  keep  it  up. 

At  noon,  the  peons  refused  another  load  and  when 
Adam  addressed  them  in  virulent  Castilian,  coolly 
pulled  the  boats  away  from  the  ship.  When  they  had 
rowed  a  short  distance  they  stopped  and  one  got  up. 

"  More  is  not  possible,  senor,"  he  said.  "  To  work 
in  this  sun  is  not  for  flesh  and  blood.  After  we  have 
slept  for  an  hour  or  two,  we  will  come  back." 

Adam  felt  for  his  pistol,  but  hesitated,  with  his 
hand  at  his  silk  belt,  and  Kit  thought  he  looked  very 
like  a  Buccaneer. 

"  It  might  pay  to  plug  that  fellow,  and  I'd  have  risked 
it  when  I  came  here  in  the  Mercedes.  Still,  I  guess 
■Don  Hernando  has  enough  trouble." 

Mayne,  standing  behind  him,  grinned.  "  I  reckon 
that  fixes  the  thing.  Don't  know  I'm  sorry  the  dagos 
have  lit  out;  my  crowd  are  used  up  and  ready  to 
mutiny." 

For  two  hours  the  tired  crew  rested  while  the  water 
sank  and  the  steamer  resumed  her  awkward  list.  Then 
the  boats  came  back  and  the  men  crawled  languidly 
about  the  slanted  deck,  until  Adam  went  among  them 
with  bitter  words.  The  sea  breeze  was  blowing  out- 
side, but  no  wind  could  enter  the  gap  in  the  trees,  and 
foul  exhalations  from  warm  mud  and  slime  poisoned 


THE  MANGROVE  SWAMP  193 

the  stagnant  air.  Kit's  head  ached,  his  eyes  hurt,  and 
his  joints  were  sore;  he  felt  strangely  limp  and  it  cost 
him  an  effort  to  get  about. 

All  the  while  the  winches  hammered  and  pulleys 
screamed  as  the  cases  came  up  and  the  empty  slings 
went  down.  The  heat  got  suffocating  and  the  slant  of 
masts  and  deck  made  matters  worse,  because  the  men 
must  hold  the  derricks  back  with  guys  while  the  heavy 
goods  cleared  the  coamings  of  the  hatch.  Much  judg- 
ment was  needed  to  drop  them  safely  in  the  boats. 
Men  gasped  and  choked,  quarreled  with  each  other, 
and  growled  at  the  mates,  but  somehow  held  on  while 
the  tide  ebbed  and  the  sun  sank  nearer  the  mangroves' 
tops.  It  dipped  when  the  breathless  peons  pushed  the 
last  boat  away  from  the  Rio  Negro's  side,  and  the 
noisy  machines  stopped. 

Darkness  spread  swiftly  across  the  lagoon  and  a 
white  fog,  hot  and  damp  as  steam,  rose  from  the 
forest  and  hung  about  the  ship.  Everything  was  very 
quiet,  for  the  men  were  too  limp  to  talk,  but  a  murmur 
came  out  of  the  distance  where  the  long  swell  beat 
upon  the  shoals.  Kit  and  Mayne  sat  in  the  chart-room, 
with  a  jug  of  iced  liquor  on  the  table  in  front.  Some- 
times they  spoke  a  few  words  and  sometimes  smoked 
in  silence,  while  Adam  lay  on  the  settee,  saying  noth- 
ing. At  length,  he  got  up  and  a  steward  helped  him 
to  his  room.  Somehow  the  others  felt  it  a  relief  that 
he  had  gone. 

"  I  can  hustle,  but  your  uncle  makes  me  tired," 
Mayne  remarked.  "If  you  get  what  I  mean,  it's  like 
watching  a  dead  man  chase  the  boys  about;  you  feel 
it's  unnatural  to  see  him  on  his  feet.  Well,  one  has  to 
pay  for  fooling  with  a  climate  like  this,  and  I'm  afraid 
the  bill  he'll  get  will  break  him.  Can't  you  make  him 
quit?" 

"I  can't;  I've  tried." 

"  The  curious  thing  is  he  knows  the  cost,"  Mayne 


194        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

resumed.  "  Knows  what's  coming  to  him  unless  he 
goes." 

"  Yes,"  said  Kit  in  a  thoughtful  voice,  "  I  believe 
he  does  knov*'  and  doesn't  mind.  This  makes  it  rough 
on  me.  I'm  powerless  to  send  him  off  and  I'm  fond  of 
the  old  man." 

Mayne  made  a  sign  of  agreement.  "  He's  a  pretty 
tough  proposition  and  was  worse  when  he  was  young; 
but  I've  risked  my  life  to  serve  him.  The  Buccaneer 
holds  his  friends." 

Kit  said  nothing.  He  was  anxious  and  depressed 
and  soon  went  ofif  to  bed. 

When  work  began  next  morning,  Adam  was  on  deck 
and  superintended  the  landing  of  the  cargo  in  spite  of 
Kit's  protest.  Kit  thought  the  day  was  hotter  than 
the  last,  and  after  an  hour  or  two's  disturbed  sleep  in 
his  stifling  room,  found  it  hard  to  drag  himself  about. 
When  the  exhausted  peons  stopped  at  noon,  he  lay 
under  the  awning  and  kept  close  to  Adam  when  they 
resumed.  He  did  not  like  his  uncle's  fixed  frown  and 
thought  it  was  caused  by  the  effort  he  made  to  keep  a-t 
work.  If  not,  it  was  a  hint  of  pain  he  stubbornly 
tried  to  overcome.  Besides,  his  step  was  dragging  and 
his  movements  were  awkward. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  Adam  stood  near 
the  noisy  winch  while  a  case  was  hoisted.  The  winch- 
man  looked  up  when  the  heavy  load,  hanging  from  the 
derrick,  swung  across  the  slanted  deck. 

"  Hold  her  while  they  steady  the  boom !  "  Adam 
shouted  and  seized  the  rope  that  slipped  round  the 
drum. 

The  winch-driver  was  watching  the  others  who  strug- 
gled with  the  guy,  and  perhaps  forgot  it  was  not  a 
strong  man  who  had  come  to  his  help.  For  a  moment 
or  two,  Adam  kept  his  grip,  and  then  his  hands  opened 
and  he  staggered  back.  Somebody  shouted,  a  pulley 
rattled,  and  the  case,  running  down,  crashed  against 


THE  MANGROVE  SWAMP  195 

the  steamer's  rail.  Kit  ran  forward,  but  reached  the 
spot  a  moment  too  late,  for  Adam  lay  unconscious  on 
the  iron  deck. 

They  picked  him  up  and  carried  him  to  the  bridge, 
where  it  was  a  little  cooler  than  his  room,  but  for  some 
time  he  did  not  open  his  eyes.  Then  he  looked  about 
dully  and  seeing  Kit  gave  him  a  feeble  smile. 

"  You're  in  charge  now,  partner ;  keep  the  boys  hus- 
tling," he  said.  "  There's  the  coffee  to  load  up  when 
you  have  put  the  gims  ashore.  Looks  as  if  I  had  got 
to  leave  the  job  to  you." 

He  turned  his  head,  drew  a  hard  breath,  as  if  it 
had  hurt  him  to  speak,  and  said  nothing  more.  The 
work,  however,  went  on  until  it  got  dark,  and  when 
the  mist  rose  from  the  mangroves  and  a  heavy  dew 
began  to  fall  they  carried  Adam  to  his  room.  He 
slept  for  part  of*the  night  while  Kit  watched,  but  now 
and  then  tossed  about  with  delirious  mutterings. 
When  morning  came  he  did  not  wake  and  Kit,  looking 
at  his  pinched,  wet  face,  went  on  deck  with  a  heavy 
heart.  He  had  sent  for  the  Spanish  doctor,  but 
thought  it  did  not  matter  much  if  Senor  Martin  came 
or  not.     In  another  day  or  two  he  would  be  alone. 


CHAPTER  IX 
Adam's  last  request 

IT  was  nearly  full  moon,  the  night  was  calm,  and  the 
flowing  tide  rippled  among  the  mangrove  roots. 
Clammy  vapor  drifted  about  the  ship  and  big  drops 
fell  from  the  rigging  and  splashed  upon  the  deck.  A 
plume  of  smoke  went  nearly  straight  up  from  the  fun- 
nel, and  now  and  then  the  clang  of  furnace-slice  and 
shovel  rose  from  the  stokehold,  for  Mayne  hoped  to 
float  the  vessel  next  tide.  For  the  most  part,  however, 
the  men  were  asleep  and  it  was  very  quiet  in  the  room 
under  the  poop.  A  lamp  tilted  at  a  sharp  angle  gave 
a  feeble  light  that  touched  Adam's  face.  Kit  sat  on  a 
locker  opposite,  looking  anxious  and  worn. 

"  You  loaded  up  some  of  the  coffee,"  Adam  re- 
marked in  a  strained  voice. 

"  Half  of  it,  I  think;  the  rest's  on  the  beach."  said 
Kit.  "  It's  doubtful  if  we'll  get  the  next  lot,  since 
Senor  Martin  understands  the  fighting  has  begun." 

*'  The  lot  you  have  shipped  will  be  something  to 
score  against  the  account;  it's  prime  coffee  and  ought 
to  sell  well.  I'd  like  you  to  get  the  rubber,  but  Al- 
varez can't  wait  long  for  the  goods  Mackellar  has 
ready  for  the  boat.  Another  voyage  and  you  can  pull 
out  for  the  old  country.  I'd  reckoned  on  going  with 
you,  but  that's  done  with." 

Kit  said  nothing.  The  doctor  had  come  and  gone, 
for  he  was  needed  elsewhere  and  could  not  help  the 
sick  man.  One  could  indulge  him  and  make  things 
comfortable  for  a  few  days  but  that  was  all,  he  said, 

196 


ADAM'S  LAST  REQUEST  197 

and  Kit  saw  that  Adam  knew.  By  and  by  the  latter 
resumed : 

"  I've  been  thinking  about  Peter  and  Ashness.  I'd 
have  Hked  to  see  the  old  place  and  the  fells  again,  and 
when  I  was  half  asleep  I  thought  I  heard  the  beck 
splash  among  the  thorns  and  the  pee-wits  cr3ang. 
Well,  you  are  going  back,  and  you'll  marry  that  girl. 
Though  it  will  cost  you  something  to  see  Alvarez 
through,  you  ought  to  be  rich  enough." 

"  You  mustn't  talk  too  much,"  said  Kit.  "  Senor 
Martin  told  you  to  rest." 

Adam  smiled.  "  It  doesn't  matter  now  if  I  rest  or 
not.  My  brain's  clearer  and  I'll  talk  while  I  can.  I 
never  told  you  much  about  my  early  life,  but  I'm 
going  to  do  so,  because  there's  something  I  want  to 
ask." 

"  Then,  you  have  only  to  ask  it,"  Kit  replied. 

"  I  know,"  said  Adam,  feebly.  "  You're  staunch. 
Well,  you  have  seen  the  despatch-box  in  the  office, 
marked  Hattie  G.,  though  I  lost  the  old  boat  long 
before  you  came  out.  She  was  a  coal-eater  and  didn't 
pay  to  run,  but  I  kept  her  going  until  she  hit  the  reef. 
My  first  steamboat  —  I  got  her  when  she  was  going 
cheap ;  but  she  was  bought  with  my  wife's  money,  and 
called  after  her. 

"  I  met  Hattie  in  Florida  about  the  year  you  were 
born.  She  was  Vanhuyten's  cousin  and  the  finest  thing 
that  ever  wore  a  woman's  shape.  Northern  grit  and 
Southern  fire,  for  she  sprang  from  New  England  and 
good  Virginia  stock;  I've  seen  no  woman  with  her 
superb  confidence.  Well,  I  was  a  contrahandista  with 
some  ugly  tales  against  my  name,  but  I  fell  in  love  with 
Hattie  and  married  her  in  a  month." 

Adam  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  while  Kit 
mused,  shovels  clinked  in  the  stokehold  and  the  vessel 
began  to  lift.  The  tilted  lamp  straightened  and  its 
light  rested  on  Adam's  w^asted  form.     His  silk  py- 


198        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

jamas  rather  emphasized  than  hid  his  gauntness;  he 
looked  strangely  worn  and  weak,  but  Kit  could  picture 
the  strong  passion  of  his  love-making.  There  was 
something  fierce  and  primitive  about  the  old  Buccaneer, 
and  it  was  not  hard  to  see  how  he  had,  so  to  speak, 
swept  the  romantic  girl  off  her  feet  by  the  fiery  spirit 
that  had  burned  him  out.  Yet  he  had  never  talked 
about  other  women,  and  though  he  knew  the  South,  Kit 
thought  he  had  cared  for  none. 

"  I  left  her  in  a  few  weeks,"  Adam  went  on.  "  Al- 
varez was  putting  up  for  president  and  my  savings 
were  at  stake.  Hattie  went  home  to  Virginia  while  I 
helped  Alvarez  on  the  coast.  He  was  hard  up  against 
it,  though  he's  been  president  three  times  since.  Well, 
when  things  looked  blackest,  I  was  knocked  out  in 
Salinas  swamps,  by  fever  and  a  bullet  that  touched  my 
lungs.  They  took  me  to  the  old  Indian  mission  —  we 
were  cut  off  from  the  ship  —  and  Father  Herman  put 
the  nirales  off  my  track.  I've  sent  him  wine  and  can- 
dles, he's  at  the  mission  yet;  it  stands  between  thick 
forest  and  swamps  like  this,  and  the  padre's  the  only 
white  man  who  has  lived  there  long.  Get  down  the 
chart  and  I'll  show  you  the  landing  place." 

Kit  did  so,  feeling  that  he  ought  to  indulge  a  sick 
man's  caprice,  and  Adam,  after  giving  him  clear  direc- 
tions, was  quiet  for  some  minutes.  Then  he  began 
again,  with  an  effort: 

*'  Vanhuyten  told  Hattie,  and  I  found  out  after- 
wards, that  she  had  had  trouble  at  home.  Her  folks 
had  never  trusted  me  and  wanted  to  keep  her  back, 
but  she  had  rich  friends  who  sent  her  out,  like  an  Amer- 
ican princess,  on  a  big  steam  yacht.  She  got  to  the 
mission  when  I  was  at  my  worst,  and  finding  I  could 
not  be  moved,  sent  the  yacht  away.  It  was  some  days 
before  I  knew  she  had  come.  There  was  no  doctor  to 
be  got.  Alvarez  could  not  send  help,  and  the  govern- 
ment soldiers  were  hunting  for  his  friends,  but  Father 


ADAM'S  LAST  REQUEST  199 

Herman  knew  something  about  medicine  and  Hattie 
helped  him  better  than  a  trained  nurse.  I  can  see  her 
now,  going  about  the  mud-walled  room  in  her  clean, 
white  dress,  without  a  hint  of  weariness  in  her  gentle 
eyes.  That  was  when  she  thought  I  was  watching,  but 
sometimes  at  night  her  head  bent  and  her  figure 
drooped. 

"  It  was  blisteringly  hot  and  when  the  sun  went  down 
the  poisonous  steam  from  the  swamps  drifted  round 
the  spot.  Sometimes  I  begged  her  not  to  stay,  and 
sometimes  I  raged,  but  Hattie  could  not  be  moved  and 
my  weak  anger  broke  before  her  smiles.  She  was 
strong  and  would  not  get  fever,  she  said ;  she  had  come 
to  nurse  me,  and,  if  I  insisted,  would  go  home  when  I 
was  well." 

Adam  stopped  and  asked  for  a  drink,  and  afterwards 
Kit  hoped  he  had  gone  to  sleep,  but  he  presently  roused 
himself  again. 

"  I  have  got  to  finish,  partner,  because  there's  a  rea- 
son you  should  hear  it  all.  By  and  by  Father  Herman 
had  to  nurse  us  both,  and  when  I  got  better  Hattie  died. 
We  buried  her  by  torchlight  in  the  dusty  mission  yard 
—  she  was  a  Catholic  —  you'll  see  the  marble  cross. 
I've  been  lonely  ever  since,  and  that's  partly  why  I  sent 
for  you ;  Peter  came  next  to  Hattie  and  you  are  Peter's 
son.  Now  I'm  ready  to  pull  out  and  somehow  I  think 
Hattie  will  find  me  when  I'm  wandering  in  the  dark. 
Love  like  hers  is  strong.  But  I  want  you  to  listen 
when  you  have  given  me  another  drink." 

Kit  held  the  glass  to  Adam's  cracked  lips.  He  drank 
and  lay  still,  breathing  hard,  and  Kit  heard  the  ripple 
of  the  tide.  The  Rio  Negro  was  getting  upright  and 
as  the  lamp  turned  in  its  socket  the  light  moved  across 
the  wall.  After  a  time,  Adam  resumed  in  a  clearer 
voice : 

"  All  I  have  is  yours ;  Mackellar  will  prove  the  will, 
but  you'll  see  Alvarez  out,  as  I  meant  to  do.     Another 


200        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

thing;  Mayne  will  get  the  old  boat  off  to-morrow,  and 
when  he's  loaded  up  I  want  you  to  take  me  out  and 
land  me  on  the  creek  I  marked  behind  Salinas  Point. 
He  can  fly  the  flag  half-mast;  I'll  have  started  on  the 
lone  trail  then.  You'll  hire  some  half-breed  boys  at 
the  pueblo  in  the  swamp,  and  take  me  to  the  mission 
and  lay  me  beside  my  wife,  Hattie  was  a  Catholic  and 
you  can  tell  Father  Herman  that  what  she  believed  was 
good  enough  for  me.  Afterwards,  you'll  send  him  now 
and  then  the  box  of  candles  he  will  tell  you  about. 
They're  to  burn  in  the^little  chapel  before  Our  Lady  of 
Sorrows,  where  Hattie  used  to  pray  I  might  get  well. 
You'll  do  this  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  Kit  answered  with  forced  quietness. 

"  Then  I've  finished,"  said  Adam.  "  I'm  going  to 
sleep  now  and  mayn't  talk  much  again." 

He  turned  his  head  from  the  light  and  presently  Kit, 
hearing  him  breathe  quietly,  went  out  on  deck. 

At  high-water  next  day,  the  Rio  Negro  floated  off 
the  mud  and  when  she  swung  to  her  anchor  Kit  went 
into  Adam's  room.  Adam  was  very  weak,  but  looked 
up. 

"  Get  the  coffee  on  board;  I'm  afraid  you  won't  have 
time  for  the  next  lot  and  the  rubber,"  he  said.  "  Tell 
Finlay  to  bank  his  fires.  You'll  want  steam  to  take 
me  out." 

Kit  understood,  and  nodded  because  he  could  not 
speak,  and  Adam,  giving  him  a  quiet  smile,  went  to 
sleep  again. 

Some  hours  later,  Mayne  joined  Kit,  who  had  gone 
on  deck  for  a  few  minutes. 

"  That's  the  last  of  the  hacienda  Luisa  coffee,"  he 
said,  indicating  a  boat  alongside.  "  The  peons  tell  me 
the  next  lot's  coming  down,  but  if  we  ship  it,  we'll  miss 
the  tide." 

"  You  can  close  the  hatches.     The  coffee  must  wait.'* 


ADAM'S  LAST  REQUEST  2oi 

"  It's  high-grade  stuff  and  brings  top  price.  I  sure 
don't  hke  to  leave  it  to  spoil." 

"  We  must  risk  that,"  Kit  said  quietly. 

"There's  another  thing;  Pedro,  the  clerk,  reckons 
they're  fighting  near  Salinas  and  the  president's  not 
popular  in  that  neighborhood.  Looks  as  if  you  might 
have  some  trouble  to  take  the  old  man  to  the  mission." 

"  It's  possible,"  said  Kit.  "  I'm  going  to  try.  Have 
everything  ready  for  us  to  get  off  to-night." 

Mayne  lifted  his  hand  to  his  cap.  "  Very  well,  sir. 
We'll  start  as  soon  as  there's  water  enough." 

He  went  away,  but  Kit  knew  what  he  meant.  The 
captain  had  done  his  duty  by  indicating  obstacles,  but 
he  approved  his  new  master's  resolve  and  owned  his 
authority.  Kit  was  persuaded  he  would  have  Mayne's 
loyal  help  and  went  back  to  Adam's  room.  When  it 
was  getting  dark,  Adam  moved  his  head  as  the  engines 
began  to  throb  and  the  propeller  churned  noisily  in  the 
shallow  water.  It  stopped  after  a  few  turns  and  steam 
blew  off. 

"  Finlay's  giving  her  a  trial  spin,"  Adam  remarked, 
in  a  very  faint  voice.  "I  see  you've  got  things  fixed 
and  I'm  ready  to  start."  He  stopped  and  shut  his  eyes 
for  a  minute  or  two,  and  Kit  did  not  know  if  he  was 
conscious  or  not.  Then  he  resumed  in  a  strained  whis- 
per :  "  All's  ready ;  ring  for  full-speed.  I'm  going  to 
meet  my  wife." 

He  drew  a  hard  breath,  sighed,  and  did  not  speak 
again.  An  hour  afterwards,  Mayne  met  Kit  coming 
out  of  the  room,  and  glancing  at  his  face  took  off 
his  cap. 

"  I  guess  it  hits  you  hard  and  I'll  miss  him,  too,"  he 
said.     "  I'll  not  get  another  master  like  the  Buccaneer." 

He  went  off  to  give  some  orders  and  Kit  sat  down, 
feeling  very  desolate. 

When   the   tide   had   risen   and   flowed   past,    oily 


202        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

smooth,  under  the  full  moon,  the  windlass  began  to 
rattle  and  the  cable  clanged.  The  anchor  came  up 
and  when  the  engines  shook  the  ship  Mayne  pulled  the 
whistle-line  and  a  long  blast  rolled  across  the  woods. 
Next  moment  a  rocket  soared  and  burst  in  a  shower  of 
colored  lights. 

"  Vanhuyten  and  Askew's  signal !  The  head  of  the 
house  is  making  his  last  trip,"  the  captain  remarked. 

The  echoes  sank,  the  colored  lights  burned  out,  and 
the  measured  beat  of  engines  jarred  upon  the  silence 
as  the  Rio  Negro  went  to  sea.  For  a  time  the  land 
breeze  blew  the  steam  of  the  swamps  after  her,  and 
masts  and  funnels  reeled  through  a  muggy  haze  as  she 
lurched  across  the  surf -swept  shoals.  She  floated  high 
and  light,  her  muddy  side  rising  like  a  wall  as  she 
steadied  between  the  rolls  that  dipped  her  channels  in 
the  foam.  Outside,  the  swell  was  regular  and  the  roll 
long  and  rhythmical ;  the  haze  thinned,  the  air  got  sweet 
and  cool,  and  the  hearts  of  the  crew  got  lighter  as  she 
steamed  out  to  open  sea.  For  all  that,  men  lowered 
their  voices  and  trod  quietly  when  they  passed  the  poop 
cabin  where  her  dead  owner  lay. 

At  sunrise,  Mayne  hoisted  the  house-flag,  and  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  drooped  languidly  half  way  up  the 
ensign  staff,  until  the  glassy  calm  broke  and  the  sea 
breeze  straightened  the  blue  and  silver  folds.  By  and 
by  he  changed  the  course  and  mountains  rose  ahead, 
although  a  bank  of  cloud  hid  the  plain  and  mangrove 
forest  at  their  feet.  In  the  afternoon,  he  searched  the 
haze  with  his  glasses,  and  getting  a  bearing  stopped  the 
engines  near  Salinas  Point  at  dusk. 

"If  the  weather's  good,  I'll  wait  three  days,"  he  said. 
"  Then,  if  you  send  no  word,  I'll  pull  out  for  Havana 
and  get  the  engines  properly  fixed.  Better  take  this 
bag  of  Spanish  money;  minted  silver  goes  and  you 
may  find  the  dagos  shy  of  the  president's  notes." 

Kit  took  the  money,  a  boat  was  swung  out,  and  four 


ADAM'S  LAST  REQUEST  203 

sailors  carried  the  plain,  flag-wrapped  coffin  down  the 
ladder.  They  were  rough  men,  but  Kit  imagined  he 
could  trust  them.  Another  crew  picked  up  the  oars, 
greasy  caps  were  lifted,  the  Rio  Negro's  whistle 
screamed  a  last  salute,  and  the  boat  stole  away.  Mayne 
steamed  oil  to  anchor  on  good  holding  ground,  and 
Kit  sat  at  the  tiller,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  misty 
coast. 

It  was  dark  when  he  heard  breakers  and  saw  the 
glimmer  of  surf.  There  were  shoals  all  round  him, 
but  he  had  been  told  about  a  bay  where  a  creek  flowed 
through  a  sheltered  channel.  He  did  not  know  if  he 
could  find  the  channel,  and  if  not  the  boat  might  be 
wrecked,  but  something  must  be  left  to  luck  and  they 
pulled  on  before  the  curling  swell.  She  struck,  and 
stopped  until  a  comber  rolled  up  astern.  It  broke  and 
half  buried  her  in  rushing  foam,  but  she  lifted,  lurched 
ahead,  and  did  not  strike  again.  The  men  were  nearly 
knee-deep  as  they  baled  the  water  out  and  one  was 
afterwards  idle  because  his  oar  had  gone.  In  spite  of 
this,  they  made  the  creek  and  drifted  quietly  into  the 
gloom  of  the  mangroves  with  the  flowing  tide. 

After  a  time,  the  water  got  shallow  and  they  pushed 
her  across  the  mud  while  leaves  and  rotting  branches 
floated  up  the  creek.  No  light  pierced  the  forest,  and 
the  feeble  beam  of  Kit's  lantern  scarcely  touched  the 
shadowy  trunks  that  moved  past  until  they  came  to  an 
opening.  Kit  thought  this  was  the  spot  he  had  been 
told  about  and  turned  the  boat.  She  would  not  float 
to  the  bank  and  he  and  his  four  men  got  out  and  lifted 
the  coffin.  They  sank  in  treacherous  mud,  but  reached 
a  belt  of  sand  riddled  by  land-crab's  holes.  All  was 
very  quiet  except  for  the  ripple  of  the  tide  and  the  noise 
made  by  the  scuttling  crabs.  The  sand,  however,  was 
dry  and  warm  and  they  sat  down  to  wait  for  morning 
when  the  boat  went  awav. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   ROAD   TO    THE    MISSION 

THE  sun  was  high  when  Kit  and  his  tired  men 
reached  the  village.  He  was  wet  with  sweat  and 
the  moisture  that  had  dripped  upon  him  from  the 
leaves  in  the  early  morning,  and  the  men  gasped  when 
they  put  down  their  load.  Two  wore  greasy  engine- 
room  overalls,  and  two  ragged  suits  of  duck;  their  soft 
hats  were  stained  and  battered  and  they  looked  like 
ruffians.  Although  Mayne  paid  good  wages,  respect- 
able seamen  avoided  the  Rio  Negro  and  her  crew  were, 
as  a  rule,  accustomed  to  fight  with  knives  and  sand- 
bags on  disorderly  water-fronts.  Now  they  carried 
pistols,  hidden  as  far  as  possible,  but  ready  for  use. 

Small,  square  mud  houses  occupied  the  hole  in  the 
forest.  Where  the  plaster  had  not  fallen  off,  their 
white  fronts  were  dazzling,  but  they  were  dirty  and 
ruinous  and  the  narrow  street  was  strewn  with  decay- 
ing rubbish.  Although  the  pueblo  had  once  prospered 
under  Spanish  rule,  it  was  now  inhabited  by  languid 
half-breeds  of  strangely  mixed  blood,  engaged  in  smug- 
gling and  revolutionary  plots.  They  stood  about  the 
doorways,  barefooted  and  ragged,  watching  Kit  with 
furtive  black  eyes. 

"  I  want  porters  and  a  guide  to  the  mission,"  he  told 
the  patron,  who  lounged  against  a  wall  smoking  a  cigar. 

"  It  is  a  long  way,  senor,  and  the  road  is  bad.  Be- 
sides, one  cannot  travel  when  the  sun  is  high." 

"  The  road  is,  no  doubt,  safer  then  than  in  the  dark." 

"  That  is  true,"  agreed  the  other  with  a  philosophic 
shrug.     "  The  country  is  disturbed." 

204 


THE  ROAD  TO  THE  MISSION      205 

"  I  must  start  at  once,"  Kit  said  firmly.  "  I  am 
willing  to  pay  for  the  risk." 

The  patron  spoke  to  the  others  in  a  harsh  dialect, 
but  none  of  the  loafing  figures  moved. 

"  They  say  the  risk  is  great,"  he  remarked.  "  There 
has  been  fighting  and  the  president's  soldiers  are  in  the 
woods." 

"  The  president's  soldiers  will  not  meddle  with  us," 
Kit  answered,  incautiously. 

For  a  moment  the  half-breed's  eyes  were  keen,  but 
his  dark  face  resumed  its  inscrutable  look. 

"  Then  the  senor  is  a  friend  of  the  president's?  " 

"If  we  meet  his  soldiers,  they  will  let  me  pass." 

"  The  soldiers  are  not  the  worst.  There  are  the 
rurales;  men  without  shame,  who  shoot  and  ask  no 
questions.  However,  we  will  see  if  I  can  find  porters, 
if  the  senor  will  wait  until  the  afternoon." 

Kit  distrusted  the  fellow  and  thought  he  had  an 
object  for  putting  off  the  start.  He  had  been  warned 
that  the  Meztisos  sympathized  with  the  rebels,  and 
imagined  that  his  party's  safety  depended  on  its  speed. 
But  he  did  not  want  to  look  impatient,  and,  imitating 
the  other's  carelessness,  sat  down  and  lighted  a  ciga- 
rette while  he  pondered.  To  begin  with,  he  suspected 
that  the  patron  would  prevent  his  meeting  any  of  the 
president's  soldiers  who  might  be  about,  and  it  would 
be  prudent  to  finish  his  business  and  get  back  to  the  ship 
before  Gaidar  knew  he  was  in  the  w^oods.  His  men 
claimed  to  be  American  citizens  and  Mayne  knew  where 
he  had  gone,  but  the  latter's  statements  might  be 
doubted  if  the  party  disappeared.  It  was  known  that 
Askew  was  engaged  in  a  risky  trade  and  the  captain's 
story  would  look  more  romantic  than  plausible. 

Kit  saw  he  must  depend  upon  his  own  resources  and 
presently  noted  that  a  man  was  leaving  the  village. 
The  fellow  kept  behind  the  group  in  the  street  as  far  as 
he  could  and  moved  quickly.     There  was  something 


2o6        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

stealthy  about  his  movements  and  when  he  looked  back, 
as  if  to  see  if  Kit  were  watching,  the  latter  got  up. 

"  Stop  that  man,"  he  said. 

"  But  he  is  going  to  his  work,  sefior,"  the  patron 
objected. 

"  In  this  country,  one  does  not  work  while  the  sun  is 
high,"  said  Kit,  who  rather  ostentatiously  pulled  out  his 
pistol.     "  Call  him  back !  " 

The  patron  shouted  and  the  man  returned,  but  Kit 
kept  his  pistol  in  his  hand. 

"  Nobody  must  leave  the  pueblo  until  I  start,"  he 
said.     "  I  want  porters  and  am  willing  to  pay." 

"  Very  well,"  the  patron  agreed,  shrugging.  "  Per- 
haps I  can  find  a  few  men,  but  they  will  want  the 
money  before  they  go." 

For  a  time,  Kit  bargained.  The  sailors  were  tired, 
and  few  white  men  are  capable  of  much  exertion  in 
the  tropic  swamps.  He  must  have  help,  and  doubting 
if  the  Mcztisos  could  be  trusted,  thought  it  best  to  offer 
a  sum  that  would  excite  their  greed,  but  stipulated 
that  half  would  not  be  paid  until  they  returned.  When 
the  patron  was  satisfied  Kit  turned  to  the  sailors. 

"  You'll  have  to  hustle,  boys,"  he  said.  "  The 
sooner  we  make  the  mission,  the  sooner  we'll  get  back, 
and  I  reckon  nobody  wants  to  stop  in  these  swamps. 
There's  something  beside  your  wages  coming  to  you." 

"  That's  all  right,  boss,"  one  replied.  "  The  old 
man  drove  hard,  but  he  paid  well  and  he  was  white. 
You  can  go  ahead;  we'll  put  the  job  over." 

The  peons  took  up  the  stretcher-poles  lashed  to  the 
coffin,  a  relief  party  went  behind  and  they  set  off. 
Nobody  spoke  and  the  Mcztisos'  bare  feet  fell  silently 
on  the  hot  sand,  although  Kit  heard  the  dragging  tramp 
of  the  sailors'  muddy  boots.  In  the  open  space  round 
the  village,  the  sun  burned  their  skin  and  they  pushed 
on  as  fast  as  possible  for  the  twilight  of  the  woods. 

Here  and  there  a  bright  gleam  pierced  the  gloom,  but 


THE  ROAD  TO  THE  MISSION      207 

for  the  most  part  deep  shadow  filled  the  gaps  between 
the  trunks.  Creepers  laced  the  great  cottonwoods, 
tangled  vines  crawled  about  their  tall,  buttressed  roots, 
and  hung  in  festoons  from  the  giant  branches.  Some 
of  the  trees  were  rotten  and  orchids  covered  their  decay 
with  fantastic  bloom.  The  forest  smelt  like  a  hot- 
house, but  the  smell  had  an  unwholesome  sourness. 
Growth  ran  riot;  green  things  shot  up,  choked  each 
other,  and  sank  in  fermenting  corruption. 

Kit  did  not  know  if  it  was  a  relief  to  escape  from 
the  glare  of  the  clearing  or  not.  The  sun  no  longer 
burned  him,  but  he  could  hardly  breathe  the  humid  air, 
and  effort  was  almost  impossible. 

All  the  same,  he  pushed  on,  floundering  in  muddy 
pools  and  sinking  in  belts  of  mire.  The  road  had 
been  made  long  since,  by  slave  labor,  when  the  Span- 
iards ruled,  and  had  fallen  into  ruin,  like  the  country, 
when  their  yoke  was  broken.  Kit  could  trace  the  an- 
cient causeway  across  the  swamps  and  wondered  when 
another  strong  race  would  put  their  stamp  on  the  land. 
The  descendants  of  the  conquerors  had  sunl<:  into  apa- 
thetic sloth ;  the  blood  of  the  dark-skinned  peoples  that 
ran  in  their  veins  had  quenched  the  old  Castilian  fire. 

When  the  light  was  fading,  the  porters  declared  the 
swamps  in  front  were  dangerous  and  put  down  their 
load,  and  after  some  trouble  the  white  men  lighted  a 
fire.  A  heavy  dew  began  to  drip  from  the  leaves  and 
the  blaze  was  comforting  in  the  gloom  that  swiftly  set- 
tled down.  Kit  had  brought  a  piece  of  tarpaulin  and 
spread  it  between  the  roots  of  a  cottonwood.  He  did 
not  mean  to  go  to  sleep,  but  his  head  ached  and  he  was 
worn  out  by  physical  effort  and  anxious  watching.  By 
and  by  his  eyes  got  heavy  and  he  sank  down  in  a  corner 
of  the  great  roots. 

The  fire  had  burned  low  when  he  looked  up  and  a 
bright  beam  that  touched  a  neighboring  trunk  indicated 
that  the  moon  was  high.     All  was  very  quiet  but  for 


2o8        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

the  splash  of  the  falling  dew;  the  glade  was  a  little 
brighter,  and  rousing  himself  with  an  effort,  he  glanced 
about.  He  saw  the  white  men's  figures,  stretched  in 
ungainly  attitudes  on  a  piece  of  old  canvas.  They 
were  all  there,  but  he  could  not  see  the  Meztisos.  Get- 
ting up,  he  walked  into  the  gloom  and  then  stopped 
with  something  of  a  shock.     There  was  nobody  about. 

For  a  few  moments.  Kit  thought  hard.  To  begin 
with,  he  had  been  rash  to  pay  half  the  porters'  wages 
before  they  started.  The  money  was  a  large  sum  for 
them  and  they  had  stolen  away ;  perhaps  because  they 
were  satisfied  and  afraid  of  meeting  the  president's  sol- 
diers, or  perhaps  to  betray  the  party  to  the  rebels  for 
another  reward.  If  the  latter  supposition  were  cor- 
rect, Kit  thought  he  ran  some  risk.  Gaidar's  friends 
knew  he  could  not  be  bribed  and  that  Adam  was  ill, 
although  it  was  hardly  possible  they  knew  he  was  dead. 
They  w^ould  see  that  Kit  had  now  control  and  since  his 
help  was  valuable  to  the  president  might  try  to  kill  him. 
His  best  plan  was  to  push  on. 

He  wakened  the  sailors,  who  grumbled,  but  picked 
up  the  coffin  when  he  tersely  explained  the  situation. 
Wet  bushes  brushed  against  them,  soaking  their  thin 
clothes,  trailers  caught  their  heads,  and  the  road  got 
wetter  and  rougher  until  they  came  to  a  creek.  Kit 
could  not  tell  how^  deep  it  was ;  the  forest  was  very 
dark  and  only  a  faint  reflection  marked  the  water. 

"  We  must  get  across,  boys,"  he  said,  and  the  others 
agreed.  They  were  hard  men.  but  the  dark  and  silence 
weighed  them  down  and  excited  vague  superstitious 
fears.  It  was  a  gruesome  business  in  which  they  were 
engaged  and  they  did  not  like  their  load. 

They  plunged  in  and  one  called  out  hoarsely  when  he 
stumbled  and  the  lurching  coffin  struck  his  head.  An- 
other gasped,  as  if  he  were  choking,  while  he  struggled 
to  balance  the  poles.  The  current  rippled  round  their 
legs;  it  was  hard  to  pull  their  feet  out  of  the  mud,  and 


THE  ROAD  TO  THE  MISSION      209 

when  there  was  a  splash  in  the  dark  they  stopped,  drip- 
ping with  sweat  that  was  not  ahogether  caused  by 
effort.     One  swore  at  the  others  in  a  breathless  voice. 

"  Shove  on,  you  slobs !  "  he  said.  "  The  old  man's 
getting  heavier  while  you  stop,  I  want  to  dump  him 
and  be  done  with  the  job.     Guess  I've  had  enough." 

Splashing  and  stumbling,  they  went  forward  and 
when  they  struggled  up  the  bank  Kit  wiped  his  wet 
face.  For  a  moment  or  two  he  had  thought  the  men 
would  drop  their  load  and  as  it  jolted,  vague  and  black, 
on  their  shoulders,  the  creaking  of  the  poles  had  jarred 
his  nerves.  He  was  going  to  keep  his  promise,  but  he 
sympathized  with  the  man  who  had  had  enough. 

After  they  left  the  creek,  the  road  got  very  bad  and 
in  places  vanished  in  belts  of  swamp.  They  sank  in 
mud  and  stagnant  water  and  no  light  pierced  the  daunt- 
ing gloom,  but  it  was  not  hard  to  keep  the  proper  line, 
because  one  could  not  enter  the  jungle  without  a  cutlass 
to  clear  a  path.  At  length,  when  the  men  were  ex- 
hausted, the  trees  got  thinner  and  the  moonlight  shining 
through  touched  the  front  of  a  ruined  building.  The 
rest  was  indistinct,  but  the  building  was  large  and  had 
evidently  belonged  to  a  sugar  or  coffee  planter.  The 
sailors  stopped  and  Kit  studied  a  gap  in  the  wall. 

The  gap  did  not  look  inviting  and  there  were,  no 
doubt,  snakes  and  poisonous  spiders  inside,  but  he 
could  go  no  farther  and  the  broken  walls  offered  some 
protection.  Perhaps  Kit  was  moved  by  an  atavistic 
fear  of  the  dark  forest,  and  he  owned  that  he  was  in- 
fluenced by  the  civilized  man's  longing  for  the  shelter 
of  a  house.  They  went  in,  and  after  putting  down  the 
coffin  in  a  room  where  vines  crawled  about  the  ruined 
wall,  the  sailors  entered  the  next.  One  frankly  stated 
that  they  wanted  to  get  away  from  the  coffin ;  Kit  could 
stop  and  watch  it  if  he  liked,  but  it  bothered  them  to 
have  the  thing  about. 

Kit  let  them  go,  and  sitting  down  in  a  corner  among 


210        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

the  rubbish  lighted  a  cigar.  A  moonbeam  rested  on 
the  opposite  wall  and  the  room  was  not  dark.  Some 
light  came  in  through  holes,  although  there  was  im- 
penetrable gloom  beyond  the  door  by  which  the  men 
had  gone.  He  could  see  the  wet  leaves  of  the  vines, 
and  the  black  coffin,  covered  by  the  flag.  But  he  was 
not  afraid  of  it;  the  man  who  lay  there  had  been  his 
friend  and  claimed  the  fulfilment  of  his  promise. 

At  the  same  time,  it  was  soothing  to  hear  the  sailors' 
voices,  until  they  got  faint  and  stopped.  Afterwards 
the  silence  was  burdensome,  although  a  small  creature 
began  to  rustle  in  the  wall.  Kit  did  not  know  if  it 
was  a  snake  or  a  spider,  and  was  too  tired  to  feel  dis- 
turbed. By  and  by  his  cigar  fell  from  his  mouth.  He 
picked  it  up,  but  it  fell  again  and  his  head  drooped. 

The  moonbeam  had  moved  some  distance  when  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  straightened  his  body  with  a  jerk. 
The  room  was  nearly  dark,  and  when  he  thought  about 
it  afterwards,  he  imagined  he  was  only  half  awake,  for 
his  heart  beat  and  he  was  conscious  of  an  enervating 
fear.  A  dark  object,  indistinct  but  like  a  man,  stood 
beside  the  coffin. 

With  something  of  an  effort.  Kit  recovered  his  self- 
control  as  the  figure  turned  and  came  towards  him.  It 
moved  with  a  curious  stealthy  gait,  making  no  noise, 
and  this  was  enough  for  Kit.  He  had  no  grounds  for 
distrusting  the  sailors,  and  they  wore  heavy  boots. 
Trying  not  to  change  his  position,  he  felt  for  his  auto- 
matic pistol.  The  butt  caught  a  fold  of  his  sash  and 
he  was  forced  to  bend  his  elbow  in  order  to  get  it  out. 
It  looked  as  if  he  would  be  too  late,  and  he  slipped  as 
the  movement  dislodged  the  rubbish  on  which  he  sat. 
Then,  as  he  shrank  with  an  instinctive  quiver  from  the 
prick  of  the  knife,  the  figure  swerved  and  leaped  back. 

Kit  threw  up  the  pistol  and  pulled  the  trigger. 
There  was  a  flash  that  dazzled  his  eyes  and  a  little 
smoke  curled  up,  but  when  he  leaned  forward  his  antag- 


THE  ROAD  TO  THE  MISSION      211 

onist  had  gone.  He  heard  no  movement  when  he 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  almost  imagined  he  had  been 
dreaming,  until  the  sailors  shouted  and  their  boots 
rattled  on  tlie  broken  floor.  They  ran  in  and  when 
Kit  told  them  what  had  happened  went  to  the  hole  in 
the  wall. 

The  moonlight  touched  the  front  of  the  building  and 
part  of  the  road  was  bright,  but  the  shadow  of  the 
forest  had  crept  across  the  rest.  All  was  very  quiet ; 
there  was  no  sound  in  the  gloom.  Then  a  flake  of 
plaster  fell  close  behind  Kit's  head  and  a  sharp  report 
rolled  across  the  trees.  One  of  the  men  shot  at  a  ven- 
ture and  two  of  his  companions  ran  savagely  along  the 
road,  until  Kit  called  them  back. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said  when  they  returned.  "  You're 
a  plain  mark  in  the  moonlight  and  can't  see  the  other 
fellow  among  the  trees." 

"  Looks  as  if  it  was  you  he  wanted,"  one  replied. 
"  Well,  I  guess  we  have  no  use  for  being  left  without  a 
boss,  and  since  we  don't  like  our  camping  ground,  you 
have  got  to  come  with  us.  We'll  draw  cuts  for  who's 
to  watch." 

Kit  went  with  them.  He  felt  shaken,  for  the  man 
who  had  brought  down  the  plaster  was  obviously  a 
good  shot.  He  imagined  it  was  another  who  had  in- 
tended to  stab  him;  in  fact,  a  number  of  his  enemies 
might  be  lurking  about.  He  was  not,  as  a  rule,  vin- 
dictive, but  the  stealthy  attack  had  induced  a  dangerous 
mood  and  he  was  sorry  he  had  missed  the  man.  It  was 
hard  to  see  why  he  had  done  so,  but  he  had,  perhaps, 
been  half  asleep.  Now,  however,  he  resolved  to  watch 
until  day  broke. 


CHAPTER  XI 

KIT   KEEPS   HIS   PROMISE 

IT  was  getting  light  when  the  man  on  watch  called 
Kit,  who  went  to  the  gap  in  the  wall.  Thin  mist 
drifted  about  the  trees  and  trailed  across  the  road. 
There  was  some  open  ground  in  front  of  the  building, 
but  behind  this  the  forest  loomed  in  a  blurred,  shad- 
owy mass. 

"  I  reckon  I  saw  something  move  where  the  fog's 
on  the  road,"  the  man  remarked. 

Kit  saw  nothing.  His  eyes  were  keen,  for  he  had 
searched  the  hillsides  for  sheep,  but  it  looked  as  if  they 
were  not  as  keen  as  the  sailor's,  and  standing  in  the 
shadow  he  watched  the  indicated  spot.  After  a  min- 
ute or  two,  a  figure  came  out  of  the  fog  and  signaled 
with  a  lifted  hand. 

"  More  of  them  around !  "  said  the  sailor  grimly. 
**  There's  trouble  coming  to  them  if  they  mean  to  cor- 
ral us.  Jake's  at  the  side  window,  and  he  had  to  get 
out  of  Mobile  because  he  was  too  handy  with  his  gun. 
Not  often  had  to  pull  mine,  but  I  can  shoot  some." 

"Quit  talking!"  Kit  rejoined,  and  his  mouth  set 
firm  when  the  figure  vanished. 

He  thought  the  rebels  meant  to  surround  the  build- 
ing. If  so,  they  were  probably  numerous,  and  the  rifle 
shot  some  hours  before  justified  the  supposition.  They 
had  first  tried  to  kill  him  quietly  and,  finding  this  im- 
possible, had  resolved  to  seize  the  party.  Well,  there 
was  good  cover  behind  the  broken  walls,  his  men  were 
a  reckless  lot,  and  he  meant  to  fight.  He  wished  the 
others  would  begin,  for  standing,  highly-strung,  in  the 
dew  was  nervous  work. 

212 


KIT  KEEPS  HIS  PROMISE  213 

The  light  had  got  clearer  when  he  noted  a  movement 
in  a  festoon  of  trailing  vines.  The  wet  leaves  shook 
as  if  somebody  were  cautiously  pulling  them  back,  and 
Kit  stiffened  his  muscles.  It  was  a  comfort  to  feel  his 
hand  was  steady,  and  although  he  had  not  used  a  pistol 
much  he  was  a  good  shot  with  a  gun.  He  thought  he 
could  send  a  bullet  through  the  moving  leaves,  but 
wanted  his  lurking  enemy  to  begin  the  fight. 

A  face  appeared  at  an  opening  and  an  arm  pushed 
through.  The  man  was  coming  out  and  Kit  felt  his 
nerves  tingle.  Then,  as  the  fellow's  body  followed  his 
arm,  the  sailor  said  quietly,  "  Don't  move,  boss.  I'll 
fix  him." 

Next  moment,  Kit  swung  round,  for  the  man  who 
stepped  out  into  the  road  wore  a  white  uniform.  The 
sailor  leaned  against  the  wall  to  steady  his  aim,  and  his 
tense  pose  and  rigid  hand  indicated  that  he  was  press- 
ing the  trigger. 

"  Hold  on!  "  Kit  shouted.     "  Don't  shoot!  " 

The  sailor  lowered  his  pistol  and  Kit,  springing  out 
of  the  shadow,  waved  his  hat. 

"  Come  forward.     We  are  friends." 

The  rural  turned  and  called  to  somebody,  and  then 
joining  Kit  glanced  at  the  sailor's  pistol  with  a  dry 
smile. 

*'  It  looks  as  if  I  had  run  some  risk.  You  did  not 
mean  to  be  surprised." 

**  No,"  said  Kit ;  "  one  takes  precautions.  I  came 
very  near  being  surprised  last  night." 

"So  the  Galdarcros  are  about?  We  suspected 
something  like  this." 

"  I  suppose  it  was  why  you  meant  to  search  the 
hacienda.     But  did  you  see  us?  " 

The  rural  indicated  a  plume  of  smoke  that  curled  up 
from  behind  the  ruined  wall. 

"  We  saw  that.  When  one  takes  precautions  it  is 
prudent  to  see  they  are  complete." 


214        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Kit  nodded.  There  was  no  use  in  getting  angry; 
his  men  were  rash  and  careless,  but,  to  some  extent, 
this  was  why  he  had  chosen  them.  They  had,  no 
doubt,  lighted  the  fire  to  cook  breakfast. 

"  Where  is  your  companion  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  There  are  three  of  us;  you  will  see  the  others  in  a 
few  moments.  They  watch  the  road  farther  on.  It  is 
usual  for  us  to  patrol  in  twos,  but  of  late  some  have 
not  returned.  A  revolution  is  a  bad  time  for  rurales; 
one  pays  old  reckonings  then," 

Kit  smiled.  "  I  imagine  it  would  have  been  bad  for 
any  Galdarero  who  had  tried  to  steal  away  down  the 
road.     But  I  expect  you  know  me?  " 

*'  We  have  orders  about  you,  sefior ;  you  see  a  serv- 
ant of  yours,"  the  rural  answered  with  a  bow.  "  But 
it  might  be  better  if  you  told  us  your  plans." 

After  giving  him  a  cigarette,  Kit  sent  the  sailor  to 
tell  the  others  and  when  the  rurales  came  up  offered 
them  a  share  of  the  breakfast  his  men  had  cooked. 
While  they  ate  he  told  them  what  had  brought  him 
there  and  where  he  was  going. 

"  So  the  American  is  dead  ?  I  have  seen  him  at  the 
presidio,"  one  remarked.  "  Well,  senor.  it  would  be 
prudent  to  finish  your  business  at  Salinas  to-night. 
After  that,  I  do  not  know.  There  has  been  fighting 
and  some  of  the  president's  soldiers  have  been  killed  in 
the  swamps." 

"  I  must  finish  the  business,"  Kit  replied.  "  It  does 
not  matter  what  happens  afterwards." 

The  rural  nodded.  "  The  American  talked  like  that. 
Quick  and  short,  but  what  he  said  went.  However,  we 
will  go  to  Salinas  with  you  when  you  are  ready." 

Kit  got  up  and  gave  his  men  an  order.  "  I  am  ready 
now." 

They  set  of¥  soon  afterwards  and  reached  the  mis- 
sion as  the  light  was  fading.  Two  small,  mud  build- 
ings and  a  little  church  stood  among  some  ruins  in  an 


KIT  KEEPS  HIS  PROMISE  215 

opening,  and  a  frail  old  man  met  the  party  at  the  gate. 
He  took  off  his  hat  when  the  sailors  put  down  the  coffin, 
and  then  listened  to  Kit's  quiet  narrative. 

"  This  poor  place  is  yours ;  it  was  a  prosperous  mis- 
sion long  since,"  he  sa,id.  "  In  this  country,  men  no 
longer  build,  but  plot  and  destroy  —  it  is  easier  than 
the  other.  Now  we  will  put  the  coffin  in  the  church 
and  then  I  will  give  you  food." 

Father  Herman  drew  back  an  old  leather  curtain 
and  the  smell  of  incense  met  Kit  as  he  stood  at  the 
door  while  the  sailors  went  forward  with  their  load. 
The  church  was  nearly  dark,  but  Kit  saw  it  had  some 
beauty  and  there  were  objects  that  hinted  at  more  pros- 
perous days.  At  the  other  end,  a  ruby  lamp  glimmered 
and  a  wax  candle  burned  with  a  clear  flame  before  a 
statue  of  the  Virgin.  Kit  knew  whence  the  candle 
came  and  that  Hattie  Askew  had  knelt  on  the  stones, 
beneath  it,  praying  that  her  husband  might  get  well. 
Then  he  looked  at  Father  Herman,  with  a  doubt  in  his 
mind. 

The  other  met  his  glance  and  smiled.  "  The  great- 
est of  these  is  charity,"  he  said  in  Latin,  and  resumed 
in  fine  Castilian:  "He  was  our  l^ene factor,  a  man 
who  kept  his  word,  and  with  such  a  wife  I  think  our 
faith  was  his.  It  is  a  gracious  sentiment  that  they 
should  not  be  parted." 

"  In  a  sense,"  Kit  said  quietly,  "  I  think  they  have 
not  been  parted  yet.  At  the  last  he  said,  with  confi- 
dence, he  was  going  to  meet  his  wife." 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  said  Father  Herman.  "  There  is 
much  that  is  dark;  but  one  felt  that  his  spirit  reached 
out  after  hers.  Well,  I  knew  he  would  come  back;  I 
have  long  expected  him." 

He  went  forward  and  lighted  more  candles  when 
the  sailors  put  down  the  coffin,  and  the  noise  their 
boots  made  jarred  Kit's  nerves  as  they  came  back. 
The  light  spread,  touching  the  bare  walls  and  tawdry 


2i6        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

decorations  about  the  shrines.  It  was  a  poor  little 
church,  falling  into  ruin,  and  the  beauty  its  pious 
builders  had  given  it  was  vanishing.  Yet  something 
redeemed  it  from  being  commonplace,  and  Kit  felt  a 
strange  emotional  stirring  as  his  eyes  rested  on  the 
dim  ruby  lamp  and  the  rude  black  coffin.  He  thought 
the  light  of  love  could  not  be  quenched  and  knew  the 
tender  romance  that  had  burned  in  the  heart  of  the 
old  Buccaneer.  It  was  with  something  of  an  effort 
he  turned  away,  and  followed  Father  Herman  across 
the  corral. 

Two  hours  later,  red  torches  flared  in  the  dark  as 
they  laid  Adam  in  his  grave,  and  Kit,  worn  by  anxiety 
and  physical  strain,  listened  dully  to  the  solemn  Latin 
office.  Then,  when  the  old  priest's  voice  died  away, 
he  went  back  to  the  mission,  where  he  fell  asleep  and 
slept  twelve  hours. 

In  the  morning,  he  sat  beneath  a  broken  arch  that 
had  once  formed  part  of  a  cloister.  Outside  the  patch 
of  shadow,  the  sun  beat  upon  dazzling  sand,  and  a  few 
vivid  green  palm-fronds  hung  over  a  ruined  wall.  Be- 
yond this  the  forest  rose,  dark  and  forbidding,  against 
the  glaring  sky.  Although  the  rest  had  refreshed  Kit, 
he  felt  as  if  he  had  got  older  in  the  last  few  days  and 
now  the  strain  had  slackened  he  was  lonely.  So  far, 
he  had  obeyed  orders  and  when  doubtful  looked  to 
Adam  for  a  lead,  but  Adam  had  gone  and  left  him 
control.  All  that  belonged  to  his  youth  had  vanished ; 
he  was  a  man,  with  a  man's  responsibilities,  and  a 
man's  problems  to  solve.  Presently  Father  Herman 
came  up  and  sat  down  opposite.  Although  he  looked 
feeble,  his  glance  was  clear  and  kind. 

"  This  house  is  yours,  senor,  and  I  am  your  servant," 
he  said.  "  Yet  I  cannot  hope  that  you  will  remain  long 
and  the  times  are  disturbed.     If  I  can  help  — " 

"  Since  the  rebels  know  I  am  here,  it  would  not  be 
safe  to  stay,  but  I  cannot  reach  Salinas  Point  before 


KIT  KEEPS  HIS  PROMISE  217 

the  steamer  sails,"  Kit  replied.     "  I  must  get  to  Ha- 
vana as  soon  as  possible." 

Father  Herman  thought  for  a  few  minutes  and  then 
resumed  :  "  A  small  schooner  is  loading  at  a  beach  not 
far  off  and  I  know  the  patron.  He  would  take  you  to 
Arenas,  where  the  president  has  supporters  and  you 
might  get  a  ship.  I  think  he  sails  to-night,  but  I  will 
send  a  message." 

Kit  thanked  him  and  went  on :  "  You  were  my 
imcle's  friend,  and  now  I  have  taken  his  place,  you  are 
mine.  As  you  let  him  send  you  things  the  mission 
needed,  perhaps  you  will  not  refuse  me." 

"  I  had  not  hoped  for  this,"  Father  Herman  an- 
swered with  a  grateful  look.  "  The  generous  gifts 
meant  much  to  us,  for  we  are  very  poor." 

"  Friendship  has  privileges.  Besides,  it  was  my 
uncle's  wish,  and  will  be  something  I  can  do  for  his 
sake." 

Father  Herman's  worn  face  got  very  soft  and  he 
gave  Kit  an  approving  glance.  "  You  are  his  kinsman, 
senor;  one  cannot  doubt  that.  Like  him,  you  are 
staunch  and  do  not  forget,  but  in  some  ways  you  are 
different.  I  will  take  your  gifts  and  pray  that  yours 
may  be  a  less  stormy  life." 

"  Thank  you,"  Kit  said  gently  and  went  off  to  look 
after  his  men. 

In  the  afternoon  he  left  the  mission,  and  a  week 
later  reached  Havana,  where  he  found  a  cablegram 
waiting.  He  got  a  shock  when  he  opened  it,  and  stood 
for  a  time  with  the  message  crumpled  in  his  hand,  for 
it  told  him  that  Peter  Askew  was  dying  at  Ashness. 
Then  he  sat  down  on  the  long,  arcaded  veranda  of  the 
hotel,  with  a  poignant  sense  of  loss,  for  the  last  blow 
was  heavier  than  the  first.  It  would  be  too  late  when 
he  got  home ;  Andrew,  his  English  relative,  would  not 
have  sent  the  message  had  there  been  any  hope. 

After  a  time.  Kit  began  to  pull  himself  together. 


2i8         THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

He  felt  dull  and  half  stunned,  but  saw  that  he  must 
brace  up.  Although  one  duty  was  denied  him,  another 
was  left.  He  could  not  bid  his  father  good-by,  but 
he  could  keep  his  promise  to  Adam,  and  there  was  much 
to  be  done.  Getting  up  with  a  resolute  movement,  he 
went  to  the  telegraph  office. 

Although  Peter  had  not  hinted  that  he  was  ill,  Kit 
felt  he  ought  to  have  gone  home  before,  and  now 
blamed  Alvarez  for  keeping  him.  He  knew  this  was 
not  logical,  but  he  hated  the  country,  with  its  turmoils 
and  plots.  It  was  not  worth  helping,  and  in  very 
truth  he  did  not  know  if  by  supporting  the  president 
he  were  helping  it  or  not.  After  all,  however,  this  was 
not  important;  Alvarez  needed  a  last  supply  of  muni- 
tions that  Adam  had  agreed  to  send.  Kit  doubted  if 
they  would  be  paid  for,  but  the  doubt  did  not  count 
for  much.  Adam  knew  the  risk  when  he  agreed  and 
his  engagements  bound  his  nephew.  The  goods  must 
be  delivered  and  then  Kit  would  let  the  business  go. 
When  he  reached  the  office  he  wrote  a  cablegram  to 
Andrew  at  Ashness  and  another  to  Mayne,  who  had 
left  Havana  before  Kit  arrived. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   LAST    CARGO 

USK  was  falling  and  Kit  urged  his  tired  mule  up 
the  winding  road.  His  skin  was  grimed  with 
dust,  for  he  had  ridden  hard  in  scorching  heat,  and  was 
anxious  and  impatient  to  get  on.  The  Rio  Negro  was 
in  the  lagoon  and  some  cargo  had  been  landed,  but  Kit 
stopped  the  work  when  nobody  came  to  take  the  goods. 
It  looked  as  if  the  message  he  had  sent  through  a  secret 
channel  had  not  reached  the  president,  and  this  was 
ominous. 

He  had  heard  rumors  of  fighting  when  he  was  in 
Cuba  and  the  United  States,  but  the  newspapers  gave 
him  little  information  and  he  had  driven  the  Rio  Negro 
across  at  full  speed  in  order  to  finish  the  contract  be- 
fore the  revolution  spread,  which  was  all  he  wanted. 
Adam's  staunch  loyalty  had  cost  him  his  life,  but  the 
president  had  no  claim  on  Kit.  Besides,  his  stopping 
in  the  country  had  kept  him  away  from  Ashness  when 
he  was  needed  there.  He  smiled  as  he  admitted  that 
he  was  hardly  logical,  since  he  was  stubbornly  pushing 
on  when  almost  exhausted  in  order  that  Alvarez  might 
get  the  goods  he  required;  but  after  all,  this  was  for 
Adam's  sake. 

As  he  rode  up  the  hill  the  sky  got  brighter  and  a 
flickering  illumination  was  reflected  on  the  clouds  that 
hung  about  the  mountains.  It  looked  as  if  the  town 
were  lighted  up  and  Kit  wondered  whether  this  was  to 
celebrate  a  victory.  He  struck  the  mule,  but  the  tired 
animal  came  near  throwing  him  when  it  stumbled  and 

219 


220        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

he  let  it  choose  its  pace.  The  jolt  had  shaken  him  and 
he  was  very  tired. 

For  a  time  he  skirted  a  belt  of  trees,  and  when  he 
came  out  on  the  open  hillside  the  illumination  was 
ominously  bright.  Now  he  was  getting  nearer,  the 
clouds  looked  different  from  the  mist  that  rolled  down 
the  mountains  in  the  evening;  they  were  dark  and 
trailed  away  from  the  range.  Still,  he  could  go  no 
faster  and  he  waited  with  growing  anxiety  until  he 
reached  a  narrow  tableland.  It  commanded  a  wider 
view  and  he  raised  himself  in  the  stirrups  as  he  saw 
that  the  light  was  the  reflection  of  a  large  fire. 

He  sank  back  and  pulling  up  the  mule  let  the  bridle 
fall  on  its  drooping  neck.  It  looked  as  if  a  number  of 
houses  were  burning  in  the  town,  which  indicated  that 
there  had  been  a  fight.  The  trouble  was  he  did  not 
know  who  had  won  and  this  was  important.  If  the 
president  were  badly  beaten,  he  would  not  need  the 
supplies  at  the  lagoon,  although  they  might  be  useful 
to  the  rebels.  Kit  imagined  it  would  be  prudent  to 
turn  back,  but  he  must  find  out  what  had  happened 
and  sent  the  mule  forward. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  he  rode  into  the  town. 
The  small  square  houses  were  dark  and  there  was  no- 
body in  the  narrow  street,  but  he  heard  a  confused 
uproar  farther  on.  Although  the  glare  in  the  sky  was 
fainter,  it  leaped  up  now  and  then  and  a  cloud  of  smoke 
floated  across  the  roofs.  A  red  glow  shone  down  the 
next  street  and  he  saw  the  pavement  was  torn  up. 
Broken  furniture  lay  among  piles  of  stones,  the  walls 
were  chipped,  and  when  Kit  got  down  he  had  some 
trouble  to  lead  the  mule  across  the  ruined  barricade. 
Although  he  saw  nobody  yet,  the  shouts  that  came  from 
the  neighborhood  of  the  presidio  were  ominous. 

Kit  remounted  and  rode  slowly  up  to  the  edge  of  the 
sandy  square  where  the  palms  grew  along  the  rails. 
The  square  was  occupied  by  an  excited  crowd,  but  the 


THE  LAST  CARGO  221 

presidio  had  gone.  A  great  pile  of  smoking  rubbish 
and  a  wall,  broken  by  wide  cracks,  marked  where  it 
had  stood.  Flames  played  about  the  ruin  and  Kit 
turned  his  mule.  He  thought  the  crowd  was  waiting 
to  search  for  plunder,  and  did  not  expect  to  find  any- 
body calm  enough  to  answer  his  questions.  Besides, 
he  needed  food  and  drink  and  might  learn  what  had 
happened  at  the  cafe. 

The  small  tables  stretched  across  the  street  and  were 
all  occupied,  but  when  Kit  had  tied  the  mule  to  the 
alameda  railings  opposite  he  found  a  chair  and  ordered 
an  omelette  and  wine.  The  waiter  looked  at  him  with 
some  surprise  and  Kit  wondered  whether  it  was  pru- 
dent for  him  to  stay. 

"  You  have  been  burning  the  presidio,"  he  remarked. 

"  We  have  got  rid  of  a  tyrant,"  the  waiter  repHed. 

"  You  may  get  another  worse,"  said  Kit,  as  coolly  as 
he  could.     "  What  happened  to  the  president?  " 

Somebody  shouted  ''  Moco/'  and  when  the  waiter 
went  away  Kit  rested  his  arms  on  the  table.  He  was 
very  tired,  and  it  was  obvious  that  he  had  come  too 
late.  Since  the  president  was  overthrown,  he  had  lost 
a  large  sum  of  mioney  and  wasted  the  efforts  he  had 
made  to  carry  out  Adam's  engagements.  He  must  get 
back  to  the  lagoon  as  soon  as  possible,  but  he  needed 
food  and  wanted  to  find  out  if  Alvarez  had  escaped. 
There  was,  however,  some  risk  in  asking  questions,  be- 
cause the  cafe  seemed  to  be  occupied  by  triumphant 
rebels. 

Presently  the  men  at  the  next  table  got  up  and  their 
place  was  taken  by  another  group,  among  which  Kit 
noted  Francisca  Sarmiento  and  her  relations.  He 
thought  they  looked  surprised,  but  they  saluted  him 
politely,  and  soon  afterwards  the  girl,  who  was  near- 
est, looked  round. 

"  You  have  courage,  senor,"  she  remarked  in  a  mean- 
ing tone. 


222         THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  I  do  not  know  if  courage  is  needed,"  Kit  replied, 
forcing  a  smile.  "  It  looks  as  if  I  could  no  longer 
meddle  with  politics." 

"  Then,  since  you  could  not  help  Alvarez,  why  did 
you  come?  " 

"  I  imagined  I  could  help  him,  until  I  saw  the  pre- 
sidio was  burnt,"  Kit  replied.  "  In  fact,  I  haven't 
found  out  what  has  happened  yet." 

The  girl  studied  him  with  some  curiosity,  but  Kit 
felt  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear  from  her. 

"If  one  did  not  know  that  you  were  incorruptible, 
one  could  understand  your  rashness,"  she  said,  in  a 
mocking  tone.  "  I  suppose  your  steamer  is  in  the 
lagoon  ?  " 

Kit  looked  round.  The  cafe  was  crowded,  but  the 
people  were  talking  excitedly,  and  nobody  seemed  to 
notice  him  and  the  girl.  The  noise  would  prevent 
their  talk  being  heard. 

"  There  is  no  use  in  denying  it,  because  Gaidar's 
spies  have,  no  doubt,  seen  her.  I  would  be  glad  if  you 
can  tell  me  what  has  become  of  the  president." 

Francisca  gave  him  a  keen  glance.  "  You  do  not 
know  Alvarez  is  dead?  " 

"Ah!"  said  Kit.  "I  did  not  know.  Was  he 
killed?" 

"  He  died  soon  after  the  fighting  began.  The  doc- 
tors say  it  was  apoplexy;  he  had  been  hurrying  about 
in  the  burning  sun." 

"  I  wonder  — .  He  was  a  strong  man  and  used  to 
the  sun." 

Francisca  smiled.  "  One  does  not  ask  questions  at 
a  time  like  this.  It  is  prudent  to  believe  what  one  is 
told.  When  tlie  soldiers  lost  their  leader  they  ran 
away." 

Kit  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  He  had  had  a 
faint  hope  that  the  president  might  rally  his  supporters 
and  begin  the  fight  again,  but  the  hope  was  gone.     He 


THE  LAST  CARGO  223 

knew  all  he  wanted,  and  must  leave  the  town  as  soon 
as  he  had  had  some  food. 

"  Alvarez  was  a  friend  of  mine,  and  the  news  you 
have  given  me  is  something  of  a  shock,''  he  said.  "  I 
think  the  country  will  feel  its  loss,  but  that  is  not  my 
business,  and  since  there  is  nothing  to  keep  me  here,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  get  away." 

"  It  would  be  prudent  to  go  soon,"  Francisca  re- 
marked in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  do  not  see  why.  I  am  no  longer  important 
enough  for  your  friends  to  meddle  with  me," 

"  You  are  very  modest,  senor,  if  you  are  not  rather 
dull.  You  have  goods  that  would  be  useful  to  the  new 
president,  who  has  a  rival  he  did  not  expect.  Don 
Felix  Munez  has  turned  traitor,  and  there  are  people 
who  support  him  in  the  coast  province." 

"  Another  president !  "  Kit  exclaimed  with  a  soft 
laugh,  and  then  bowed  to  the  girl.  "  I  think  you  mean 
well.  You  have  given  me  a  useful  hint  and  you  have 
my  thanks.  I  will  be  rash  and  tell  you  that  Gaidar 
shall  not  have  the  goods  I  brought." 

Francisca's  eyes  got  soft  and  a  touch  of  color  crept 
into  her  olive  skin. 

"  One  does  not  often  meet  a  man  who  puts  honor 
before  money.     Adios,  senor!     I  wish  you  well." 

Then  she  turned  to  her  companions,  who  presently 
left  the  table  and  soon  afterwards  Kit's  omelette  was 
brought.  While  he  ate,  Olsen  came  in  and  sitting  down 
opposite,  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"  You'll  allow  that  the  Buccaneer  backed  the  wrong 
man,"  he  said.  "  I  warned  you  and  reckon  your  ob- 
stinacy has  cost  you  something." 

"  That  is  so,"  Kit  agreed.  "  One  must  run  risks  in 
a  business  like  this,  but  I  don't  expect  you  to  sympa- 
thize." 

Olsen  smiled.  "  I  don't  pretend  I'm  not  satisfied, 
but  I  can  show  you  how  to  get  some  of  your  money 


224        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

back.  I've  learned  much  about  you  and  Askew  since 
we  had  our  last  talk,  and  am  willing  to  buy  part  of  the 
Rio  Negro's  cargo.'' 

"  You  seem  to  know  she  has  arrived?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  knew  some  hours  since.  I've  been 
looking  out  for  you." 

"To  whom  do  you  mean  to  sell  the  goods?"  Kit 
asked. 

"Does  that  matter?" 

"  Yes ;  it's  rather  important." 

"  The  important  thing  is  you'll  get  paid,"  Olsen  re- 
joined. 

Kit  frowned.  He  imagined  he  could  demand  a  high 
price,  and  now  Alvarez  was  dead,  there  was  perhaps  no 
reason  for  refusing  to  bargain;  but  he  did  not  mean  to 
let  Gaidar  have  the  goods.  He  thought  Adam  would 
not  have  done  so,  and  he  held  the  new  president,  to 
some  extent,  accountable  for  Adam's  last  illness. 

"  The  cargo  is  not  for  sale,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  shucks !  "  Olsen  exclaimed.  "  I  reckon  you 
want  to  put  up  the  price." 

"  No,"  said  Kit,  rather  grimly,  "  I  don't  want  to 
sell." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool.  The  man  you  backed  is  dead. 
You  carried  out  your  contract,  and  it  doesn't  matter 
to  him  now  who  gets  the  truck." 

"  That's  true,"  Kit  replied.  "  But  I  won't  help  his 
rival." 

Olsen  looked  hard  at  him  and  saw  he  was  resolute. 
"Oh,  well!  If  you're  determined,  there's  no  use  in 
arguing!  You're  something  of  a  curiosity;  I  haven't 
met  a  man  like  you  before." 

He  went  away  and  Kit  ordered  more  wine,  for  he 
was  thirsty  after  his  long  ride  and  had  borne  some 
strain.  He  had  to  wait  for  the  wine,  but  had  expected 
this  since  the  cafe  was  crowded,  and  in  the  meantime 
he  got  up  and  looked  across  the  street.     Nobody  had 


THE  LAST  CARGO  225 

meddled  with  the  mule,  which  stood  quietly  by  the 
railings  with  drooping  head.  Kit  wondered  where  he 
could  get  it  some  food  and  if  he  could  hire  a  fresh 
animal. 

Then  a  waiter  brought  the  wine  and  when  he  had 
drunk  some  and  lighted  a  cigarette  Kit,  listening  to  the 
talk  of  the  men  at  the  next  table,  got  a  hint  that  threw 
some  light  on  Olsen's  offer.  Alvarez  had  used  the 
vaults  under  the  presidio  for  a  munition  store,  and 
when  he  was  dead  the  mayor-domo  had  blown  up  the 
building  as  the  rebels  forced  their  way  in.  Now  there 
was  a  new  president  in  the  field,  it  was  obvious  why 
Gaidar  wanted  fresh  supplies.  This,  however,  was  not 
important,  and  Kit  drained  his  glass  and  then  tried  to 
rouse  himself.  He  must  look  after  the  mule  and  if  it 
was  not  fit  for  the  journey  get  another  animal. 

He  felt  strangely  reluctant  to  move;  the  fatigue  he 
had  for  a  time  shaken  off  returned  with  puzzling  sud- 
denness and  threatened  to  overpower  him.  His  head 
was  very  heavy,  he  could  hardly  hear  the  people  talk, 
and  every  now  and  then  his  eyes  shut.  He  could  not 
keep  them  open,  but  after  a  few  minutes  he  straight- 
ened his  bent  shoulders  with  a  resolute  jerk  and 
clenched  his  fist.  It  was  not  fatigue  that  was  mas- 
tering him ;  the  wine  was  drugged.  He  had  not  noted 
a  suspicious  taste,  but  he  was  thirsty  and  the  omelette 
was  strongly  flavored  with  garlic  and  red  pepper. 

Holding  himself  stiffly  upright,  he  tried  to  think. 
Olsen  had,  no  doubt,  ordered  the  wine  to  be  drugged, 
and  his  object  was  plain.  He  meant  to  prevent  Kit 
reaching  the  lagoon  until  he  had  removed  the  cargo 
on  the  beach  and  tried  to  persuade  Mayne  to  land  the 
rest.  Well,  the  plot  would  fail,  and  with  an  effort 
Kit  got  up  and  crossed  the  street.  He  suspected  that 
he  was  watched,  but  nobody  tried  to  stop  him  and  he 
mounted  the  mule 

The  animal  moved  off  at  a  better  pace  than  he  had 


226        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

hoped  and  he  tried  to  brace  himself.  His  head  ached 
and  his  brain  was  very  dull,  but  somehow  he  stuck  to 
the  saddle,  and  although  he  could  hardly  guide  the  mule 
the  animal  avoided  the  people  in  its  way.  After  a 
time,  the  street  became  empty,  the  noise  behind  was 
fainter,  and  the  houses  were  dark.  Nobody  seemed  to 
follow  him  and  Kit  began  to  hope  he  might  be  able  to 
leave  the  town.  He  did  not  know  what  he  would  do 
then,  and  hardly  imagined  he  could  keep  up  the  effort 
much  longer.  Perhaps,  when  he  got  away  from  the 
houses  he  could  tie  up  the  mule  in  a  quiet  place  and 
rest. 

When  he  rode  down  a  rough  track  into  open  country 
he  rocked  in  the  saddle  and  would  have  fallen  but  for 
the  high  peak  and  big  stirrups.  The  hillside  was 
blurred;  distorted  objects  that  he  thought  were  rocks 
and  cactus  lurched  about  in  the  elusive  moonlight,  and 
the  sweat  ran  down  his  face  as  he  fought  against  the 
drug.  He  knew  it  would  conquer  him,  but  he  was 
going  on  as  long  as  possible. 

At  length  the  mule  stepped  into  a  hole,  Kit's  foot 
came  out  of  the  stirrup  and  he  fell.  For  a  moment  or 
two,  the  mule  dragged  him  along ;  then  he  got  his  other 
foot  loose  and  for  a  time  knew  nothing  more. 

The  moonlight  was  fading  when  he  opened  his  eyes 
and  saw  that  he  was  lying  beside  a  clump  of  cactus. 
Indistinct  objects  moved  along  the  road  not  far  off  and 
he  heard  the  click  of  hoofs  on  stones.  A  mule  train 
was  passing  and  was,  no  doubt,  going  to  the  lagoon. 
He  could  not  get  up  and  was  glad  he  was  in  dark 
shadow.  The  muleteers  had  probably  been  told  to  look 
out  for  him  and  a  blow  from  a  heavy  stone  would 
prevent  his  interfering  with  the  rebels'  plans.  The  in- 
distinct figures,  however,  went  on  and  Kit  relapsed  into 
unconsciousness. 

It  was  daylight  when  he  wakened  and  saw  a  man 
bending  over  him.     Kit  was  cold  and  wet  with  dew; 


THE  LAST  CARGO  227 

his  head  ached  horribly  and  he  did  not  try  to  get  up. 
His  pistol  was  underneath  him  and  if  the  fellow  meant 
to  kill  him  he  could  not  resist. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  he  asked. 

The  man  said  he  had  seen  him  lying  there  and  imag- 
ined he  was  ill.  Then  he  held  out  his  hand  and  asked 
if  Kit  could  get  up.  Kit  was  surprised  when  he  found 
himself  on  his  feet,  although  he  swayed  as  he  tried  to 
keep  his  balance. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  a  liberator?  "  he  said  dully. 

The  other  clenched  his  dark  fist.  "  No,  seiior ! 
Those  dogs,  the  Galdareros,  are  no  friends  of  mine ! 
But  you  were  for  the  president;  it  was  known  in  the 
town." 

Kit  admitted  it.  The  fellow's  scornful  denial  was 
comforting  and  after  some  talk,  walking  with  a  pain- 
ful effort,  he  went  with  him  down  the  hill  to  a  small 
mud  house.  A  few  minutes  after  he  got  there  he  went 
to  sleep,  but  in  the  meantime  the  man  had  promised  to 
help  him  to  reach  the  lagoon. 

He  kept  his  promise,  and  before  it  was  light  next 
morning  Kit  dismounted  on  the  sandy  beach.  There 
was  no  moon  and  mist  drifted  about  the  trees,  but  the 
water  shone  faintly  and  the  tide  was  nearly  full.  The 
steamer  loomed  in  the  gloom  and  when  Kit  shouted 
there  was  a  rattle  of  pulley  blocks  and  a  splash  of  oars. 
Ten  minutes  afterwards  Mayne  met  him  at  the  gang- 
way and  gave  him  his  hand. 

"  It's  some  relief  to  see  you  back,"  he  said.  "  Fin- 
lay  has  his  fires  banked  and  can  get  steam  to  take  us 
out  in  an  hour  or  two." 

Kit  went  with  him  to  his  room  and  sat  down  limply. 
He  was  covered  with  dust  and  wet  with  dew ;  his  face 
was  haggard  and  his  eyes  were  dull. 

"  I'll  tell  you  about  my  adventures  later,"  he  said. 
"  What  about  the  cargo?  " 

"  Some  dagos  came  along  with  a  mule  train  and 


228        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

loaded  up  part  of  the  truck  on  the  beach.  They  had 
an  order  that  looked  as  if  it  had  been  signed  by  you, 
and  as  they  were  a  pretty  tough  crowd  and  had  their 
knives  loose,  I  let  them  take  the  goods.  When  I 
studied  the  order  I  wasn't  sure  about  the  hand  and 
brought  off  all  they  had  left.  By  and  by  another  gang 
came  along,  but  I  refused  to  send  a  boat  until  I'd  seen 
you." 

"  You  wese  prudent,"  Kit  remarked.  "  The  order 
was  forged.     Let  me  see  the  mate's  cargo-lists." 

He  studied  the  book  Mayne  gave  him  and  then  pon- 
dered. Olsen  had,  no  doubt,  forged  the  order  and  Kit 
imagined  he  would  have  some  trouble  to  get  payment 
for  the  goods.  The  manufacturers  might  be  persuaded 
to  take  back  the  rest  of  the  cargo  at  something  less  than 
its  proper  price,  but  Kit  thought  the  value  of  the  muni- 
tions supplied  to  Alvarez  would  be  lost.  The  new 
president  would  certainly  try  to  disown  the  debt.  Kit, 
however,  had  known  that  Adam's  staunchness  might 
cost  him  much,  and  something  might,  perhaps,  be  saved. 
He  had  had  enough  of  the  country,  and  as  soon  as  he 
could  straighten  out  the  tangle  in  which  the  revolution 
had  involved  Adam's  business  he  was  going  back  to 
Ashness. 

"  Heave  your  anchor  when  you're  ready,"  he  said 
to  Mayne.  "  We'll  call  at  Havana  and  then  steam  for 
New  Orleans." 

At  high-water  he  stood  on  the  bridge,  watching  the 
mangroves  fade  into  the  mist.  Ahead,  the  sun  was 
rising  out  of  a  smooth  sea,  the  air  was  fresh,  and  Kit's 
heart  was  lighter.  He  had  done  with  plots  and  in- 
trigue and  was  going  back  to  Ashness  and  the  quiet 
hills.  At  the  same  time,  he  felt  a  tender  melancholy  as 
he  thought  about  the  little  church  at  Salinas  and  the 
marble  cross  in  the  sandy  yard.  Then  he  lifted  his 
head  and  the  melancholy  vanished  as  he  looked  across 
the  sparkling  water.     The  clang  of  engines  rose  and 


THE  LAST  CARGO  229 

fell  with  a  measured  beat  and  there  was  a  noisy  splash- 
ing at  the  bows.  Bright  streaks  of  foam  eddied  about 
the  Rio  Negro's  side,  and  a  long  smoke  cloud  trailed 
astern  as  she  steamed  to  the  North. 


PART  III— KIT'S  RETURN 


CHAPTER  I 

kit's  welcome 

KIT  was  comfortably  tired  when  he  sat  down  by  the 
beck  at  the  head  of  the  dale.  He  had  been  at 
Ashness  for  a  week,  and  finding  much  to  be  done  had 
occupied  himself  with  characteristic  energy.  It  was 
a  relief  to  feel  that  the  heat  of  the  tropics  had  not  re- 
laxed his  muscles  as  much  as  he  had  thought,  and  that 
the  languidness  he  had  sometimes  fought  against  was 
vanishing  before  the  bracing  winds  that  swept  his  native 
hills.  The  ache  in  his  arms  had  come  from  using  the 
draining  spade  and  his  knees  were  stiff  after  a  long 
walk  through  the  heather  to  examine  the  Herdwick 
sheep.  His  vigor  was  coming  back  and  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  keen  but  tranquil  satisfaction  with  the  quiet 
dale. 

FiDing  his  pipe  lazily,  he  looked  about.  The  sun  was 
near  the  summit  of  the  fells  and  the  long  slopes  were 
turning  gray  in  the  shadow.  The  yellow  light  touched 
the  other  side  of  the  valley,  and  the  narrow  bottom, 
through  which  shining  water  ran,  was  a  belt  of  cool 
dark-green.  A  faint  bleating  of  sheep  came  down  the 
hill,  and  the  beck  splashed  softly  among  the  stones. 

Kit  found  the  quiet  soothing.  He  had  had  enough 
excitement  and  adventure,  and  had  half-consciously 
recognized  that  the  life  he  had  led  in  the  tropics  was 
not  for  him.  On  the  whole,  he  thought  he  had  made 
good.  One  did  one's  best  at  the  work  one  found,  but 
intrigue  was  not  his  proper  job.  For  all  that,  he  did 
not  mean  to  philosophize  and  had  something  to  think 
about. 

233 


234        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

When  he  sold  the  Rio  Negro  and  paid  his  debts  he 
found  a  larger  surplus  than  he  had  hoped.  Moreover, 
his  agents  had  not  yet  enforced  all  business  claims  and 
might  be  able  to  send  him  a  fresh  sum.  The  money 
he  brought  home  would  not  have  made  him  a  rich  man 
in  America,  but  it  would  go  a  long  way  in  the  dale, 
and  the  soil  and  flocks  at  Ashness  could  be  improved 
by  modern  methods  and  carefully  spent  capital.  Kit 
had  begun  at  once  and  found  his  task  engrossing,  but 
when  the  day's  work  was  over  he  felt  a  gentle  melan- 
choly and  a  sense  of  loneliness.  Adam  and  Peter  had 
gone  and  he  had  loved  them  both;  he  kneAv  he  would 
not  meet  their  like  again.  Yet  he  had  not  lost  them 
altogether.  They  had,  so  to  speak,  blazed  the  trail  for 
him,  and  he  must  try  to  follow,  fronting  obstacles  with 
their  fearless  calm. 

Then  he  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  his  heart 
beat  as  a  figure  came  round  a  bend  of  the  road.  The 
girl  was  some  distance  off  and  he  could  not  see  her 
face,  but  he  knew  her  and  braced  himself.  He  had 
known  the  meeting  must  come  and  much  depended  on 
her  attitude.  Grace  was  no  longer  a  romantic  girl,  and 
though  he  had  not  forgotten  her,  she  might  have  been 
persuaded  that  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  him.  Now 
she  must  choose  her  line,  and  he  sat  still,  half  pre- 
pared for  her  to  pass  him  with  a  bow.  While  he 
waited,  his  dog  got  up  and  ran  along  the  road.  Old 
Bob  knew  Grace,  and  it  looked  as  if  she  had  spoken  to, 
and  perhaps  petted,  him  while  his  master  was  away. 

She  stopped,  and  Kit  felt  ashamed  when  he  got  up. 
for  she  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  friendly  look  and 
he  siw  she  had  not  changed  as  much  as  he  had  thought. 
The  ,'roud  calm  he  approved  was  perhaps  more  marked, 
but  he  imagined  the  generous  rashness  he  had  liked 
as  well  still  lurked  beneath  the  surface.  He  had  met 
attractive  girls  in  the  tropics  who  knew  they  were 
beautiful  and  added  by  art  to  their  physical  charm. 


KIT'S  WELCOME  235 

Grace,  however,  used  hers  unconsciously;  he  thought 
she  was  too  proud  to  care  if  she  had  such  charm  or 
not. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  back,"  she  said  and  stroked 
the  dog  that  leaped  upon  her.  **  Bob  and  I  are  friends. 
He  knew  me  when  I  came  round  the  corner." 

"  So  did  I,"  Kit  rejoined  quietly. 

He  thought  he  noted  a  touch  of  color  in  her  face, 
but  she  smiled. 

*'  You  did  not  get  up.  Perhaps  you  were  not  sure, 
like  Bob?" 

"  I  think  I  was  sure.  But  I  have  been  away  some 
time  and  it  was  not  my  part  to  force  you  to  acknowl- 
edge me." 

"If  I  didn't  want  to?"  Grace  suggested.  "Well, 
I  do  not  forget  my  friends,  and  now,  if  you  are  satis- 
fied, we  can  let  that  go."  She  paused  and  resumed 
when  he  went  on  with  her:  "The  dalesfolk  have 
missed  you,  particularly  since  your  father  died.  It 
must  have  been  a  shock  —  I  felt  it,  too,  because  I  saw 
him  now  and  then.     We  were  friends  in  spite  of  all." 

Kit  was  grateful  for  her  frank  sympathy,  and  felt 
he  could  talk  to  her  about  his  father. 

"  He  did  not  tell  me  this,  but  he  liked  you." 

"  He  was  just,"  Grace  replied.  "  People  Icnew,  and 
trusted  him.  He  had  none  of  the  rancor  that  often 
leads  us  wrong.  When  he  was  firm  he  did  not  get 
angry.  That  kind  of  attitude  is  hard,  but  it  makes 
things  easier.  But  you  were  in  America  with  his 
brother,  were  you  not?  " 

"  I  was  in  the  United  States,  and  afterwards  in 
some  of  the  countries  on  the  Caribbean." 

"  Ah,"  said  Grace  with  curiosity,  "  that  must  have 
been  interesting!  One  understands  that  is  a  beautiful 
and  romantic  coast,  with  its  memories  of  the  great 
Elizabethan  sailors  and  the  pirates." 

"It  is  romantic,  and  dangerous  in  parte.     You  can 


236        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

land  at  some  of  the  towns  from  modern  mail-boats 
and  find  smart  shops  and  cafes;  others  have  fallen 
into  ruin  and  lie,  half-hidden  by  the  forest,  beside 
malaria-haunted  lagoons.  You  steal  in  through  the 
mist  at  the  top  of  a  high  tide,  much  as  the  old  pirates 
did,  and  when  you  land,  find  hints  of  a  vanished  civ- 
ilization and  the  Spaniards'  broken  power.  But  you 
seem  to  know  something  about  the  coast." 

Grace  smiled.  "  You  look  surprised !  There  is  a 
library  at  Tarnside,  although  it  is  not  often  used,  and 
we  have  books  al)out  the  voyages  of  the  buccaneers. 
One  book  is  rather  fascinating.  But  what  were  you 
doing  in  the  lagoons?  " 

"  Sometimes  we  loaded  dyewoods  and  rubber ; 
sometimes  we  lent  money  to  ambitious  politicians  in 
return  for  unlawful  trading  privileges,  and  now  and 
then  engaged  in  business  that  was  something  like  that 
of  the  old  adventurers." 

"After  that,  you  must  find  the  dale  very  tame," 
Grace  remarked,  and  quietly  studied  Kit. 

She  had  liked  his  honesty  and  resolution  before  he 
went  abroad,  but  he  had  gained  something  she  had  not 
noted  then.  Although  he  wore  rough  working  clothes 
and  had  obviously  been  digging,  he  had  an  elusive  touch 
of  distinction,  and  there  was  a  hint  of  command  in 
his  quiet  look.  He  had  seen  the  world,  confronted 
dangers,  and  used  power,  and  this  had  put  a  stamp  on 
him. 

"  It  is  hard  to  imagine  you  a  pirate,"  she  remarked 
with  a  twinkle.  "  You  don't  look  the  part,  and,  no 
doubt,  like  other  occupations,  it  requires  some  study." 

Kit  laughed.  "  One  does  the  best  one  can !  I  rather 
think  taking  trouble  and  a  determination  to  make  good 
are  as  useful  as  specialized  training." 

"  Perhaps  that's  true.  It's  curious,  in  a  way,  but 
I  expect  a  good  farmer,  for  example,  might  make  a 
successful  buccaneer.     One  understands,  though,  that 


KIT'S  WELCOME  237 

the  last  pirate  was  hanged  a  hundred  years  since." 

"  There  are  a  few  left,  although  their  methods  have 
changed  with  the  times.  Some  day  I  would  like  to 
tell  you  about  my  uncle.  He  was,  so  to  speak,  a  sur- 
vival, and  I  think  you  would  appreciate  him.  But 
how  have  things  been  going  in  the  dale?" 

Grace's  twinkle  vanished,  her  look  became  serious, 
and  Kit  thought  he  noted  signs  of  strain.  After  all, 
she  had  changed  since  he  left  Ashness.  It  was  not 
that  she  looked  older,  although  she  was  now  a  rather 
stately  woman  and  not  an  impulsive  girl;  he  felt  that 
she  had  known  care. 

"  On  the  whole,"  she  said,  "  things  have  not  gone 
very  well.  We  have  had  wet  summers  and  heavy  snow 
in  spring.  The  flocks  are  poor  and  rents  have  come 
down.  Bell  has  gone;  he  quarreled  with  Hayes  about 
some  new  machinery  for  the  mill.  All  is  much  the 
same  at  Tarnside,  though  my  father  is  not  so  active. 
Gerald  left  Woolwich  —  perhaps  you  knew  —  and  is  in 
a  London  bank." 

Kit  hid  his  surprise.  Gerald  was  not  the  stuff  of 
which  good  bank  clerks  are  made,  although  Osborn's 
influence  with  the  local  manager  had,  no  doubt,  got 
him  the  post.  Kit  imagined  the  lad  had  been  forced 
to  leave  Woolwich,  but  money  must  be  scarce  at  Tarn- 
side,  since  he  had  gone  into  business.  This  threw 
some  light  on  the  hint  of  weariness  he  had  noted  about 
Grace.  If  fresh  economy  was  needful,  she  and  Mrs. 
Osborn  must  carry  the  load. 

"  Hayes  is  still  your  agent.  I  met  him  yesterday 
and  he  gave  me  a  sour  nod."  Kit  remarked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Grace,  and  added  quietly :  "  I  some- 
times wish  he  were  not !  " 

''  Well,  I  never  liked  the  man.  All  the  same,  he's 
a  very  good  agent,  from  the  landlord's  point  of  view, 
and  your  father's  interests  ought  to  be  safe  with  him." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  Grace  agreed,  but  her  look  was 


238        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

doubtful,  and  they  reached  the  Ashness  lonning  a  few 
minutes  later.  When  Kit  stopped  she  gave  him  her 
hand.  "  I  hear  you  are  going  to  make  a  number  of  im- 
provements, and  v^ish  you  good  luck !  " 

Kit  went  up  the  lonning  and  sitting  down  in  the 
porch  lighted  his  pipe.  Grace  had  not  forgotten;  she 
had  given  him  his  real  welcome  home  and  he  thrilled  as 
he  thought  about  her  quiet  friendliness.  Perhaps  the 
meeting  was  awkward  for  her,  but  she  had  struck  the 
right  note,  with  the  dignified  simplicity  he  had  ex- 
pected. It  said  something  for  her  pluck  that  she  had 
met  him  as  if  the  interview  at  Ashness,  when  Osborn 
had  driven  him  away,  had  never  taken  place.  All  this 
was  comforting,  but  Kit  was  vaguely  disturbed  on 
her  account. 

He  had  noted  a  hint  of  anxiety  and  she  had  implied 
that  things  were  not  going  well  for  the  Osborns.  He 
meant  to  marry  Grace ;  his  longing  for  her  was  keener 
than  he  had  felt  it  yet,  but  it  was  not  altogether  self- 
ish. She  must  be  removed  from  surroundings  in  which 
she  could  not  thrive.  Tarnside,  with  its  rash  extrava- 
gance, pretense,  and  stern  private  economy,  was  not 
the  place  for  her.  But  he  felt  he  must  be  patient  and 
cautious;  there  were  numerous  obstacles  in  his  way. 

In  the  meantime,  Grace  met  Thorn  farther  along 
the  road  and  tried  to  hide  her  annoyance  as  he  ad- 
vanced. Perhaps  it  was  the  contrast  between  him 
and  Kit,  whose  thin,  brown  face  had  a  half -ascetic 
look,  for  Alan  was  fat  and  getting  coarse.  Grace  had 
noted  this  before,  but  not  so  plainly  as  she  did  now. 
His  manners  were  urbane  and  he  belonged  to  her 
circle;  to  some  extent,  his  code  was  hers  and  she  had 
his  prejudices  and  tastes.  All  the  same,  she  did  not 
like  him;  for  one  thing  he  was  a  type  her  father  ap- 
proved, a  man  of  local  importance  and  strictly  local 
ideas,  and  Osborn  had  forced  her  into  rebellion.     Alan 


KIT'S  WELCOME  239 

managed  the  otter  hounds  well  and  knew  much  about 
farming,  but  he  was  satisfied  with  this.  Although  he 
belonged  to  a  smart  London  club,  Grace  imagined  he 
only  went  there  because  he  thought  he  ought.  Yet  he 
was  cunning  and  patient,  and  knowing  why  he  bore 
with  Osborn,  she  was  sometimes  afraid. 

"Was  that  Askew?"  he  inquired  when  he  turned 
and  went  on  with  her. 

Grace  said  it  was  and  he  gave  her  a  careless  look. 

"  I  heard  he  had  come  back.  Might  have  been  better 
if  he  had  stayed  away.  A  fellow  like  that  is  rather 
disturbing." 

"  I  don't  think  he  could  do  much  harm,  when  you 
and  Hayes  are  on  your  guard,"  Grace  rejoined. 

"  That  is  so,"  Thorn  agreed  and  she  could  not  tell 
if  he  knew  she  had  meant  to  be  ironical.  "  Anyhow, 
I  don't  suppose  he  wants  to  do  much  harm ;  I  was  think- 
ing about  his  example." 

"  Is  it  a  dangerous  example  to  improve  one's  land  ? 
I  thought  you  advocated  scientific  farming?  " 

"  So  I  do.  I  don't  mean  that,  although  I  don't 
know  if  Askew's  farming  is  scientific  or  not.  One 
can't  judge  yet.  His  independence  and  habit  of  tak- 
ing his  own  line  might  be  dangerous." 

"  Mr.  Askew's  independence  is  justified.  Ashness 
is  his." 

"  Yes,"  said  Thorn  thoughtfully,  "  that's  the  trouble. 
If  he  was  a  farming  tenant,  things  would  be  easier." 

Grace  laughed.  "  You  are  delightfully  naive!  I'm 
afraid  you'll  have  to  leave  Mr.  Askew  alone,  but  I 
don't  expect  he'll  do  anything  alarming.  I  think  you 
know  he  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  I  knew  he  was,  before  he  went  abroad.  If  you 
have  renewed  the  friendship,  it  means  you're  satis- 
fied about  him  and  perhaps  we  needn't  be  disturl)ed. 
Your  judgment  is  generally  sound." 


240        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Grace.  "  I  have  relations  who 
would  not-agree !  But  why  do  you  dislike  people  who 
take  their  own  line?  " 

"  It  would  be  awkward  if  one's  tenants  did  so ;  but 
perhaps  my  feeling  springs  from  envy.  The  rest  of  us 
can't  do  what  we  want.     You  can't,  for  example !  " 

Grace  gave  him  a  keen  glance,  and  then  laughed. 
"  On  the  whole,  that  is  true.  We  have  a  number  of 
rules  at  Tarns  ide,  but  one  now  and  then  gets  some 
satisfaction  from  breaking  them." 

"  Rebellion  doesn't  pay,"  Thorn  rejoined  with  a 
touch  of  dry  humor.  "  You  are  young  and  adven- 
turous, but  you'll  find  it  prudent,  so  to  speak,  to  accept 
your  environment  and  submit.  Some  people  call  sub- 
mission duty,  but  that's  really  cant ;  they  mean  it  saves 
them  trouble.  Anyhow,  you  cannot  make  your  own 
code;  when  you're  born  at  a  place  like  Tarnside,  it's 
made  for  you." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Grace,  "  I  wonder  — .  Well,  you  know 
I  am  sometimes  rash." 

Then  she  was  careful  to  talk  about  something  else, 
for  she  thought  Alan  had  not  philosophized  without 
an  object  and  it  was  not  difficult  to  see  where  his  hints 
led.  When  they  reached  the  lodge,  she  firmly  sent 
him  away,  although  he  looked  as  if  he  wanted  to  come 
to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  DANGEROUS   TALENT 

DINNER  was  nearly  over  at  Tarnside.  The  meal 
was  served  with  some  ceremony,  although  the 
bill  of  fare  was  frugal  except  when  game  could  be  shot 
and,  as  a  rule,  nobody  but  Osborn  talked  much.  Now 
he  had  satisfied  his  appetite  he  looked  about  the  spacious 
room.  The  handsome,  molded  ceiling  was  dark  from 
neglect  and  the  cornice  was  stained  by  damp.  The 
light  of  the  setting  sun  streamed  in  through  the  long 
casement  window  which  commanded  the  shining  tarn 
and  the  woods  that  melted  into  shadow  at  the  mouth 
of  the  dale.  It  was  a  noble  view,  but  it  did  not  hold 
Osborn's  eyes,  for  the  quivering  sunbeams  searched  out 
the  faded  spots  on  the  curtains  and  the  worn  patches 
on  the  rugs  on  the  polished  floor. 

"  We  need  a  number  of  new  things  and  I  don't 
know  how  they're  to  be  got,"  he  remarked,  and  when 
Mrs.  Osborn  said  nothing  knitted  his  brows.  He 
had  put  away  some  money  for  renovations,  but  it  had 
gone.  One  could  not  keep  money  at  Tarnside;  it 
vanished  and  left  nothing  to  show  how  it  had  been 
spent. 

"  I  understand  young  Askew  is  back  at  Ashness," 
he  resumed,  looking  hard  at  Grace. 

"  Yes,"  said  Grace.     "  I  met  him  not  long  since." 

Osborn  frowned.  He  knew  she  had  met  Kit,  but 
did  not  know  if  he  liked  her  candor.  The  girl  was  in- 
dependent, but  he  thought  she  now  understood  the 
responsibilities  of  her  rank. 

"  The    fellow   is   obviously  prosperous,    since   he's 

241 


242        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

spending  a  large  sum  on  draining.  I  saw  a  big  stack 
of  pipes  and  a  number  of  men  at  work.  My  opinion 
is  it's  a  ridiculous  waste  of  money." 

"  Perhaps  there  are  worse  extravagances,"  Grace  re- 
joined. "  I  expect  he  has  some  hope  of  getting  his 
money  back  by  growing  better  crops.  Ours  goes  and 
never  returns." 

Mrs.  Osborn  gave  her  a  warning  glance.  Osborn 
hated  contradiction  and  Grace  and  he  often  jarred, 
but  the  girl  smiled. 

"  Father  and  I  are  not  going  to  quarrel  about  Mr. 
Askew's  farming;  it  is  not  worth  while,"  she  said 
and  studied  Osborn  with  half-penitent  sympathy. 

The  strong  light  touched  his  face,  forcing  up  the 
deep  lines  and  wrinkles,  and  she  thought  he  was  get- 
ting older  fast.  His  eyes  were  dull  and  his  shoulders 
were  slightly  bent.  She  knew  about  some  of  his 
troubles  and  suspected  others,  but  the  stamp  of  in- 
dulgence that  had  got  plainer  in  the  last  year  or  two 
disturbed  her. 

"  The  Askews  seem  fated  to  give  me  trouble,"  he 
went  on.  "  Now  the  fellow  has  begun  to  drain,  his 
neighbors  will  expect  me  to  do  so.  In  fact,  Black  and 
Pattinson  bothered  Hayes  about  some  plans  for  buying 
pipes  when  they  paid  their  rent.  Besides,  the  con- 
trast hurts;  I  don't  see  why  a  fellow  like  Askew  should 
be  able  to  waste  money  on  rash  experiments  when  we 
have  not  enough.  However,  this  leads  to  another 
matter;  Gerald  comes  back  to-morrow,  and  will  no 
doubt,  grumble  about  his  poverty.  H  he  does,  you 
must  give  him  nothing.  He  has  his  pay  and  I  make 
him  an  allowance.  I  won't  have  his  extravagance  en- 
couraged." 

Grace  smiled  as  Mrs.  Osborn  got  up  with  a  disturbed 
look.  "  Mother  cannot  have  much  to  give  and  I  have 
nothing  at  all.  I'm  afraid  Gerald's  talent  for  beg- 
ging will  be  used  in  vain." 


A  DANGEROUS  TALENT  243 

She  went  out  with  Mrs.  Osborn  and  when  they  had 
gone  Osborn,  crossing  the  floor  to  the  sideboard,  filled 
his  glass  to  the  top.  This  was  his  regular  habit 
and  its  futility  escaped  him,  although  he  knew  his 
wife  and  daughter  knew.  He  felt  he  did  enough 
if  he  exercised  some  self-denial  when  they  were 
about. 

In  the  meantime,  Mrs.  Osborn  sat  down  on  the  ter- 
race and  looked  across  the  untidy  lawn. 

"  We  need  a  new  pony  mower ;  Jenkins  cannot  keep 
the  grass  in  order  with  the  small  machine.  He  was 
very  obstinate  about  the  bedding  plants  he  wanted  to 
buy  and  the  borders  look  thin,  but  I  felt  I  must  be 
firm,"  she  said  and  added  drearily :  "  I  wonder  when 
we  shall  be  forced  to  get  a  sporting  tenant  and  live  in  a 
smaller  house." 

"  Father  would  not  leave  Tarnside.  I  suppose  you 
don't  know  how  things  are  really  going?  " 

"  I  know  they  are  not  going  well  and  suspect  they 
get  worse;  but  he  will  not  tell  me.  One  could  help  if 
one  did  know." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  have  disappointed  father  and  given  you 
anxieties  you  need  not  have  had,"  Grace  replied  with 
some  bitterness.  "  After  all,  however,  the  fault  is 
hardly  mine.  I  wanted  to  make  my  own  career,  but 
was  not  allowed ;  to  work  at  a  useful  occupation,  would 
somehow  have  humiliated  our  ridiculous  pride,  and 
there  was,  of  course,  only  one  hope  left  for  you." 
She  paused,  and  colored  as  she  resumed :  "  Well, 
although  I  am  not  sorry,  it  looks  as  if  that  hope  had 
gone." 

"  It  would  have  been  a  relief  if  you  had  made  a 
good  marriage,"  Mrs.  Osborn  admitted.  "  Still,  since 
you  met  nobody  you  like  — " 

"  The  men  I  might  perhaps  have  liked  were  poor. 
Father  would,  no  doubt,  think  it  my  natural  perversity, 
or  our  bad  luck;  but  I  don't  believe  in  luck.     It's  an 


244        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

excuse  for  weak  makeshifts  and  futilities;  one  can 
conquer  bad  fortune  if  one  is  resolute." 

"  None  of  us,  except  you,  has  much  resolution," 
Mrs.  Osborn  remarked  and  sighed.  "  So  far,  your 
firmness  has  not  helped  much;  I  imagine  you  know 
your  father  has  not  given  up  hope." 

"  Yes,"  said  Grace,  rather  harshly.  "  I  do  know, 
and  that  is  why  I  am  often  impatient.  He  will  not 
be  persuaded  the  thing's  impossible." 

"  After  all,  Alan  has  some  advantages." 

"  He  has  many  drawbacks,"  Grace  rejoined,  and 
then  her  face  softened  and  she  gave  her  mother  an 
appealing  look.     "  I  thought  you  were  on  my  side !  " 

"  I  am  on  your  side  where  you  feel  strongly.  Per- 
haps I  am  reserved  and  you  do  not  often  give  me  your 
confidence." 

"I'm  sorry.  We  are  seldom  quite  honest  at  Tarn- 
side;  somehow  one  can't  be  oneself,  but  now  we  must 
be  frank.  I  don't  like  Alan  Thorn ;  I  never  liked  him. 
It's  impossible." 

"  Then,  my  dear,  there  is  no  more  to  be  said." 

Grace  made  a  sign  of  disagreement.  "  There  may 
be  much ;  that  is  why  I  am  disturbed.  You  and  I  don't 
count,  mother;  we  are  expected  to  submit.  It  isn't 
that  I  don't  like  Alan ;  I  shrink  from  him.  He  is  cun- 
ning and  knows  how  to  wait.  Sometimes  his  patience 
frightens  me." 

"  But  why  should  his  patience  frighten  you?  " 

"Oh!"  said  Grace,  "can't  you  understand?  You 
know  father's  habits  and  that  Gerald  is  following  him. 
You  know  our  debts  are  mounting  up  and  this  can't 
go  on.  Some  day  we  may  be  ruined  and  then  I  think 
Alan  will  seize  his  chance.  Perhaps  I'm  imaginative 
—  but  such  things  happen." 

Mrs.  Osborn  put  her  hand  on  the  girl's  arm  and  her 
touch  was  unusually  firm.     "  You  may  be  alarmed  for 


A  DANGEROUS  TALENT  245 

nothing,  my  dear.  But  if  the  time  should  come  when 
my  help  is  really  needed,  it  will  be  yours." 

Grace  kissed  her.  "  I  can  trust  you.  I  was  weak 
—  I'm  sometimes  a  coward  —  but  now  I'm  comforted." 

They  were  silent  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  Mrs. 
Osborn  looked  up. 

"  Is  it  prudent  for  you  to  meet  Christopher  Askew 
again?  " 

Grace  colored,  but  met  her  mother's  glance  and  an- 
swered with  a  thoughtful  calm ;  "  I  see  no  danger. 
I  liked  Kit  before  he  went  away,  but  our  friendship  was 
really  not  romantic.  When  father  met  us  in  Redmire 
Wood,  a  horribly  silly  impulse  made  me  hide.  I  blush 
when  I  think  about  it  and  imagine  I  forgot  I  had  grown 
up  —  Gerald  and  I  used  to  hide  when  father  was  angry. 
Anyhow,  I  made  Kit  Askew  hide  and  he  was  first  to 
remember  and  step  into  the  road." 

"  But  this  happened  long  since  and  he  is  older." 

"  Yes,"  said  Grace,  "  he's  different,  although  one 
feels  that  he  has  kept  a  promise  made  in  his  half-de- 
veloped stage.  He  has  been  out  in  the  world  and 
done  strenuous  things,  while  I  stayed  at  home  and 
played  at  make-believe.  He  talks  like  a  man  who 
knows  his  value  and  there's  a  touch  of  distinction  in 
his  look;  a  stupid  word,  but  it  comes  near  what  I 
mean." 

Mrs.  Osborn  glanced  at  her  sharply,  but  Grace  smiled. 
"  Don't  be  disturbed,  mother ;  I  am  trying  to  tell  you 
all  I  think.  We  were  friends,  but  I  imagine  Kit  knows 
his  drawbacks  from  our  point  of  view.  Besides,  after 
father  quarreled  with  Peter  Askew  I  never  sent  Kit  a 
message,  and  he  must  have  thought  I  acquiesced.  In 
a  way,  I  did  acquiesce ;  it  was  the  best  thing  to  be  done. 
You  see  what  this  implied?  If  I  had  loved  him,  it 
meant  I  had  no  pluck  and  was  ashamed  to  acknowl- 
edg-e  a  farmer's  son.     But  he  knew  I  did  not  love  him 


246        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

and  understood  that  our  friendship  would  not  bear  the 
strain  of  father's  disapproval.  Either  way,  it  hinted 
that  I  was  weak  and  not  worth  pursuing.  Well,  he 
met  me  without  embarrassment  and  we  talked  about 
nothing  important.  I  may  meet  him  now  and  then, 
but  that,  I  think,  is  all." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Osborn,  who  looked  relieved. 
"  Perhaps  it  would  be  prudent  not  to  meet  him  often." 

Grace  smiled  and  was  silent  for  a  time.  She  had 
tried  to  be  frank  and  thought  she  had  stated  things 
correctly  —  so  far  as  she  knew.  Then  she  remem- 
bered Kit's  look  when  she  stopped  and  spoke,  and  be- 
gan to  wonder.  Perhaps  she  had  not  told  all  and  the 
little  she  had  left  out  was  important.  By  and  by  she 
got  up  and  went  into  the  house. 

Gerald  Osborn  came  home  next  day  and  not  long 
afterwards  Kit  found  him  lying  on  the  gravel  beside 
a  tarn  on  the  Ashness  moor.  Heavy  rain  had  fallen, 
but  the  clouds  had  rolled  away  and  the  water  shone 
with  dazzling  light.  The  sky  was  clear  except  for  a 
bank  of  mist  floating  about  the  round  top  of  a  fell, 
and  a  swollen  beck  sparkled  among  the  heather.  The 
wind  had  dropped  and  it  was  very  hot. 

When  he  heard  Kit's  steps  Gerald  looked  up.  He 
was  a  handsome  young  man,  with  some  charm  of 
manner,  although  it  was  obvious  now  and  then  that 
he  had  inherited  a  touch  of  his  father's  pride.  His 
glance  was  keen  and  intelligent,  but  his  mouth  and  chin 
were  weak.  Gerald  had  talent,  but  was  very  like  Os- 
born, since  he  was  sometimes  rashly  obstinate  and 
sometimes  vacillating. 

"  Hallo !  "  he  said.  "  I  expect  I  ought  to  have 
asked  your  leave  before  I  came  to  fish.  I  hope  you 
don't  mind." 

"  I  don't  mind.  Nobody  asks  my  leave,"  Kit  re- 
plied.    "Have  you  had  much  luck?" 

Gerald  evened  his  creel  and  showed  him  a  number 


A  DANGEROUS  TALENT  247 

of  small,  dark-colored  trout.  "  Pretty  good.  They 
rose  well  until  the  light  got  strong.  Then  I  thought 
I'd  take  a  rest.     Will  you  smoke  a  cigarette?  " 

Kit  sat  down  and  looked  across  the  shining:  water 
at  the  silver  bent-grass  that  gleamed  among  vivid 
green  moss  on  the  side  of  the  hill. 

"  You  must  find  this  a  pleasant  change  from  town. 
Are  you  staying  long  ?  " 

"A  fortnight;  that's  all  I  get.  I  wish  I  could  stop 
for  good.  It's  rot  to  spend  one's  life  working  in  a 
bank." 

"  I  suppose  one  must  work  at  something,"  Kit  re- 
marked. 

"  I  don't  see  why,  unless  you're  forced.  The  only 
object  for  working  is  wdien  you  must  work  to  live,  and 
it  isn't  mine,  because  I  can't  live  on  my  pay.  In  fact, 
the  futility  of  the  thing  is  plain."' 

Kit  laughed.  Gerald's  humorous  candor  was  part 
of  his  charm,  but  Kit  thought  it  deceptive. 

"  Why  did  you  go  to  the  bank,  then?  " 

"  Because  my  father  thought  I  ought.  I  expect  you 
know  he  believes  in  the  firm  hand.  I  wanted  to  stop 
at  Tarnside,  which  would  have  cost  him  less.  Be- 
sides, I  could  have  looked  after  the  estate.  It  will 
be  mine  sometime;  that  is,  as  much  as  is  left." 

"  But  Hayes  transacts  the  business." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Gerald,  rather  dryly.  "  What  do 
you  think  about  Hayes  ?  " 

"  He's  your  father's  agent  and  has  nothing  to  do 
with  me.     I  imagine  he's  a  capable  manager." 

"  I  sometimes  think  he's  too  capable."  Gerald  re- 
joined. 

Kit  let  this  go.  Before  he  w^ent  away  he  had  sus- 
pected that  Hayes  had  plans  his  employer  would  not 
approve,  and  he  knew  Gerald  was  shrewd.  It  was, 
however,  not  his  business  and  he  remarked:  "You 
wanted  to  go  to  Woolwich,  didn't  you  ?  " 


248        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  I  did  not,"  Gerald  declared.  ''  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  said  so,  but  my  objections  didn't  count.  I  might 
have  made  a  good  farmer  or  land-steward,  but  a  num- 
ber of  us  had  been  soldiers  and  that  was  enough.  I 
don't  know  if  it  was  a  logical  argument,  but  I  had  to 
go,  and  on  the  whole  it  was  a  relief  when  they  turned 
me  out.  Too  many  regulations  for  my  independent 
taste!  Rules  are  good,  perhaps,  so  long  as  they're 
made  for  somebody  else." 

He  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes  and  Kit  mused. 
He  thought  there  was  some  bitterness  in  Gerald's 
humor;  it  looked  as  if  Osborn  had  not  been  wise  when 
he  planned  his  son's  career  without  consulting  him. 
This,  however,  was  typical.  Osborn  was  satisfied  to 
give  orders  and  expected  others  to  accept  his  point  of 
view. 

"  Well,"  said  Gerald,  getting  up,  "  I  must  be  off. 
Rather  a  bore  to  walk  to  Tarnside,  and  the  trout  will 
probably  rise  again  if  there's  wind  enough  to  make  a 
ripple,  but  I  forgot  to  ask  for  sandwiches." 

"  H  you  lunch  with  me,  you  could  come  back  after- 
wards," Kit  suggested,  and  they  set  off  down  the  hill. 

When  they  reached  Ashness,  Gerald  tried  to  hide 
his  surprise.  Kit  had  made  some  changes  in  the  old 
house  and  so  far  kept  to  the  Spanish  rule  of  meals. 
Lunch  was  a  late  breakfast,  well  served  in  china  and 
silver  that  were  seldom  used  in  Peter  Askew's  time. 
The  low  room  had  been  cleverly  painted  and  a  case- 
ment commanding  a  view  of  the  dale  replaced  the  orig- 
inal narrow  windows.  Specimens  of  ancient  Indian 
pottery  stood  on  the  sideboard,  and  there  were  cur- 
tains of  embroidered  silk,  feather-flowers,  and  silver- 
work  that  Kit  had  brought  from  Spanish  America. 
The  things  gave  the  lonely  farmstead  an  exotic  touch, 
but  they  implied  the  command  of  money  and  cultivated 
taste. 

"  You  have  a  beautiful  room,"  Gerald  remarked, 


A  DANGEROUS  TALENT  249 

when  the  meal  was  over.  "  Don't  know  that  I'm  much 
of  a  connoisseur,  but  some  of  the  things  look  rather 
fine." 

"  ril  show  them  to  you  presently,"  Kit  replied  and 
gave  Gerald  a  small,  dark  cigar.  "  I  wonder  how 
you'll  like  the  flavor." 

"  Our  club  cigars  are  dear  and  good,  but  the  best 
is  nothing  like  this,"  Gerald  declared  after  a  minute 
or  two.     "  Where  did  they  come  from  ?  " 

"  They  were  given  me  in  Cuba ;  I  believe  the  make 
is  not  offered  for  public  sale.  In  a  general  way,  Cuban 
tobacco  is  not  what  it  was,  but  there  are  belts  of  soil 
that  grow  a  leaf  that  can't  be  equaled  anywhere  else." 

"  I  suppose  they  keep  the  crop  for  presidents  and 
dictators.  The  quality  indicates  it,"  Gerald  suggested, 
and  Kit  smiled. 

Gerald  tasted  his  black  coffee.  "  If  it's  not  bad 
form,  where  did  you  get  this?  There's  nothing  of  the 
kind  in  Cumberland,  and  it's  better  than  the  Turkish 
they  give  you  in  London." 

"  It  came  from  a  Costa  Rican  hacienda,  and  was  a 
gift.  I'll  get  no  more  when  the  bag  is  done.  If  you 
come  back  in  a  month,  you'll  find  me  living  in  plain 
north-country  style." 

"  I  imagine  you  made  up  for  that  while  you  were 
away,"  said  Gerald,  who  rose  and  went  to  the  side- 
board. "  A  curious  little  jar  and  obviously  old !  Is 
this  the  kind  of  thing  the  Aztecs  made?  " 

"  I  rather  think  it  is  Aztec,  though  I  didn't  buy  it 
in  Mexico.  I  gave  about  a  pound  for  the  jar  and  found 
a  gold  onza  inside." 

"  An  onsaf  Oh,  yes,  an  ounce!  The  kind  of  coin 
some  countries  mint  but  very  seldom  use.  Sometliing 
of  a  bargain!  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was,"  Kit  replied  incautiously.  "  For 
all  that,  the  onza  wasn't  mine,  and  in  a  sense  my  ef- 
forts to  find  the  owner  cost  me  a  very  large  sum." 


250        THE  BUCCANEER  FARxMER 

Gerald  gave  him  a  keen  glance.  Askew  was  not 
boasting;  he  had  enjoyed  the  command  of  money. 

*'  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  think  I'd  have  kept  the  onza, 
whether  it  was  mine  or  not."  He  paused  and  pulled 
a  knife  from  its  sheath.  The  handle  was  ornamented 
and  the  narrow  blade  glittered  in  the  light,  although 
its  point  was  dull.  "  But  what  is  this  ?  Has  it  a 
story?" 

"  Take  care !  "  said  Kit.  "  It  may  be  poisoned ;  the 
Mestisos  use  a  stufif  that  will  kill  you  if  a  very  small 
quantity  gets  into  your  blood.  The  fellow  who  owned 
that  knife  came  near  burying  it  in  my  back." 

"  It  looks  as  if  you  had  had  some  adventures,"  Ger- 
ald remarked,  and  leaning  against  the  sideboard  he 
lighted  a  cigarette. 

Kit  crossed  the  floor  and  stood  by  the  open  window. 
The  shadow  of  a  cloud  rested  motionless,  a  patch  of 
cool  neutral  color,  on  the  gleaming  yellow  side  of  the 
hill.  A  wild-cherry  tree  hung  over  a  neighboring  wall, 
and  bees  hummed  drowsily  among  the  flowers.  He 
was  strangely  satisfied  to  be  at  home,  and  it  was  hard 
to  realize  that  not  long  since  he  had  been  engaged  in 
a  dangerous  trade  among  the  fever-haunted  swamps. 

"Have  you  any  more  curiosities?"  Gerald  asked. 

Kit  opened  a  drawer  in  his  big  desk,  where  he  kept 
specimens  of  featherwork.  As  he  took  them  out  he 
moved  some  documents  and  Gerald  indicated  one. 

''  Cristobal  Askew?  Your  name  in  Castilian,  I 
suppose.     You  write  a  curious  hand." 

"  A  matter  of  precaution !  Anyhow,  I  didn't  sign 
this  order,  and  that's  why  I  kept  it.  The  thing  was 
rather  important  and  we  were  lucky  to  find  out  the 
cheat  in  time,  particularly  as  I  imagined  nobody  could 
imitate  my  hand.  You'll  see  my  proper  signature  on 
the  next  document." 

"  It's  not  a  very  good  counterfeit,"  said  Gerald,  who 
compared  the  writing  with  the  other.     "  This  is  a  sub- 


A  DANGEROUS  TALENT  251 

ject  I  know  something  about.  Penmanship  is  one 
of  my  few  talents  and  I  keep  the  customers'  signature 
book  at  the  bank.  Yours  is  an  uncommon  hand,  but 
it  could  be  forged.     Let's  see !     May  I  use  this  paper?  " 

Kit  nodded  and  Gerald,  knitting  his  brows,  wrote 
the  name  three  or  four  times  and  then  looked  up. 

"  I  think  I've  got  it.  Hard  to  tell  which  is  genuine, 
if  you  put  them  side  by  side?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Kit.  "  I'm  not  sure  I  could  tell  which 
is  mine." 

Gerald  laughed.  "  One  has  to  study  these  things ; 
part  of  my  job,  you  see,  and  banks  are  cheated  ottener 
than  people  think.  However,  I  expect  you  want  to 
get  to  work  and  I'll  go  back  to  the  tarn." 

He  went  out  and  Kit  tore  up  the  paper.  He  thought 
a  talent  like  Gerald's  might  be  dangerous  if  it  were 
used  by  an  unscrupulous  man. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   HORSE   SHOW 

IT  was  a  calm  evening  and  Osborn  sat  on  the  terrace, 
studying  a  printed  notice.  Mrs.  Osborn  poured 
out  coffee  at  a  small  table,  and  Gerald  and  Grace  oc- 
cupied the  top  of  the  broad  steps  to  the  lawn.  The 
sun  was  low,  the  air  was  cool,  and  except  for  the  soft 
splash  of  a  beck,  a  d-^ep  quietness  brooded  over  the 
dale. 

"  It  will  be  a  good  show,"  Osborn  remarked,  reach- 
ing for  a  cup.  "  I  insisted  on  the  rather  early  date, 
because  if  we  had  waited  until  the  hay  was  in,  we 
might  have  got  wet  weather.  Two  or  three  objected, 
but  I'm  satisfied  I  took  the  proper  line.  One  must  be 
firm  with  an  argumentative  committee." 

Gerald's  eyes  twinkled  as  he  looked  at  Grace.  Os- 
born generally  was  firm  with  people  who  gave  way, 
and  Gerald  had  heard  some  grumbling  about  his  chang- 
ing the  date  for  the  horse  show. 

"  It's  the  last  time  I'll  be  president,"  Osborn  re- 
sumed. "  I  had  meant  to  resign,  but  Thorn  could  not 
take  the  post.  Sir  George  is  away,  and  a  well-known 
local  man  is  needed  to  give  the  thing  a  proper  start." 

"  Rather  an  expensive  honor !  "  Gerald  observed. 
"The  president's  expected  to  make  up  the  shortage  if 
the  day  is  wet." 

"  That  was  one  reason  for  my  fixing  the  meeting 
early,  when  we  often  get  it  fine,"  Osborn  replied 
naively.  "  The  expense  is  a  drawback,  but  the  com- 
mittee would  not  let  me  drop  out." 

252 


THE  HORSE  SHOW  253 

"  Mother  and  Grace  will  want  new  hats  and  clothes, 
and  I  expect  the  job  will  cost  you  more  than  you  think. 
You'll  have  to  give  them  a  lead  by  bidding  for  the 
chapel  sheep." 

"If  that  meddlesome  fellow  Drysdale  is  going  to 
send  his  sheep  to  the  show,  the  arrangement  was  made 
without  my  knowing,"  Osborn  replied  angrily. 

Mrs.  Osborn  looked  disturbed,  but  Gerald  laughed. 
He  rather  enjoyed  provoking  his  father  when  he 
thought  it  safe.  Drysdale  was  treasurer  for  a  body 
of  Nonconformists,  who  wanted  to  build  a  new  chapel 
and,  finding  the  farmers  reluctant  to  give  money,  had 
asked  for  contributions  from  their  flocks  and  herds. 

"  The  idea  was  that  the  sale  would  be  an  extra 
attraction,"  Gerald  went  on.  "  Still,  I  admit  it's  hard 
for  you,  because  you  hate  chapels  and  will  have  to  bid. 
In  fact,  you'll,  no  doubt,  have  to  buy  the  sheep  at  a 
sentimental  price  and  sell  them  at  their  value." 

"  I  believe  in  liberty  of  conscience  and  do  not  hate 
chapels,"  Osborn  rejoined.  "  For  all  that,  I  own  to 
a  natural  prejudice  against  people  who  attend  such 
places,  largely  because  they  mix  up  their  religious 
and  political  creeds.  It  would  be  strange  if  I  sym- 
pathized with  their  plans  for  robbing  the  landlords." 

"  Anyhow,  Drysdale  means  to  bring  his  flock,  and 
I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  pay.  The  situation  has  some 
humor." 

Osborn  knitted  his  brows.  Hayes  had  been  talk- 
ing to  him  about  the  estate  accounts  and  he  had  re- 
solved to  practise  stern  economy.  Economy  was  need- 
ful, unless  he  gave  a  fresh  mortgage  to  pay  the  inter- 
est on  his  other  debts ;  and  here  was  an  expense  he 
had  not  bargained  for. 

"If  I'd  known  about  Drysdale,  I'd  have  resigned," 
he  said.  "  I  took  the  post  again  because  there  was 
nobody  else." 

"  They  might  have  tried  Askew,"  Gerald  suggested. 


254        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"Askew?  A  fellow  of  no  importance,  unknown 
outside  the  dale !  " 

"  I  imagine  he'll  be  better  known  soon,  and  he's 
rather  a  good  sort.  Gave  me  a  very  good  lunch  not 
long  since  and  has  obviously  spent  something  on  the 
farm.  His  room  is  like  a  museum,  and  he  has  a  num- 
ber of  valuable  things.  Seems  to  have  had  some  ad- 
ventures abroad,  and  found  them  profitable." 

"  You  mean  he  tried  to  impress  you  by  vague  boast- 
ing?" 

"  No,"  said  Gerald,  "  I  don't  think  he  did ;  the  fel- 
low's not  that  kind.  In  fact,  he's  rather  good  form, 
and  has  somehow  got  the  proper  stamp." 

Grace  looked  at  her  brother,  as  if  she  agreed;  but 
Osborn  remarked  ironically,  "  You  imagine  yourself 
a  judge?  " 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Gerald,  smiling,  "  I've  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  being  brought  up  at  Tarnside,  and  be- 
long to  a  good  London  club.  Anyhow,  Askew's  much 
less  provincial  than  some  of  our  exclusive  friends. 

He  strolled  off  and  Osborn  went  to  the  library,  where 
he  spent  some  time  studying  his  accounts.  The  calcu- 
lations he  made  were  disturbing  and  he  resented  the 
possibility  of  his  being  forced  to  help  Drysdale's  fund. 
Nevertheless,  the  president  of  the  show  would  be  ex- 
pected to  lead  the  bidding  and  the  Osborns  did  things 
properly. 

A  week  or  two  afterwards,  Mrs.  Osborn  opened  the 
show  in  a  field  by  the  market-town,  which  stood  in  a 
hollow  among  the  moors.  The  grass  sloped  to  a  river 
that  sparkled  in  the  sun  and  then  vanished  in  the 
alders'  shade.  Across  the  stream,  old  oak  and  ash 
trees  rolled  up  the  side  of  the  Moot  Hill,  and  round 
the  latter  gray  walls  and  roofs  showed  among  the 
leaves.  A  spire  and  a  square,  ivy-covered  tower  rose 
above  the  faint  blue  haze  of  smoke.     A  few  white 


THE  HORSE  SHOW  255 

clouds  floated  in  the  sky  and  their  cool  shadows  crept 
slowly  across  the  field. 

The  horses  were  not  very  numerous,  but  the  show 
had  other  attractions  and  was  an  excuse  for  a  general 
holiday.  The  crowd  was  larger  than  usual,  Mrs.  Os- 
born's  nervous  speech  was  cheered,  and  for  a  time  Os- 
born  forgot  that  the  office  he  had  taken  might  cost 
him  something.  He  was  carrying  out  a  duty  he  owed 
the  neighborhood  and  felt  that  he  could  do  so  better 
than  anybody  else.  He  did  not  admit  that  he  liked 
to  take  the  leading  place. 

His  first  annoyance  came  with  the  sheep-dog  trials. 
He  had  not  known  Askew  was  a  competitor  and 
frowned  as  he  saw  Grace  go  up  to  him  when  a  flock 
of  Herdwicks  entered  the  field.  The  girl  ought  to  have 
seen  that  it  was  not  the  proper  thing  for  his  daughter 
to  proclaim  her  acquaintance  with  the  fellow.  Then 
Gerald  followed  her,  and  began  talking  to  Askew  as 
if  he  knew  him  well.  Gerald,  was  of  course,  irre- 
sponsibly eccentric,  but  his  folly  jarred. 

Grace  had  found  it  needful  to  get  a  new  dress  and 
hat,  and  Kit  thrilled  and  tried  to  hide  his  delight  in 
her  beauty  as  she  advanced.  His  rough-coated  dog 
ran  to  meet  her  and  she  stroked  its  shaggy  head. 

"  I  hope  Bob  is  going  to  win,"  she  remarked. 

"It's  doubtful,"  Kit  replied.  "He's  clever,  but 
they  don't  give  us  much  time  and  he's  getting  slow. 
One  or  two  of  his  rivals  are  very  good." 

"  You'll  do  your  best,  old  Bob,"  said  Grace,  and 
the  dog,  looking  up  at  her  with  friendly  eyes,  beat  his 
tail  on  the  ground. 

Then  Gerald  came  up,  and  soon  afterwards  the 
judges  tied  a  string  to  a  farmer's  leg  and  fastened  the 
other  end  to  a  post.  This  allowed  him  to  run  a  short 
distance,  after  which  he  must  direct  his  dog  by  voice. 

"  First  trial,  Mr.  Forsyth's  Merry  Lad,"  a  steward 


256        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

announced,  and  the  crowd  gathered  round  when  the 
jud^,  J  took  out  his  watch. 

Furze  bushes  had  been  stuck  into  the  ground  to 
simulate  a  broken  hedge.  Beyond  these  was  a  row 
of  hurdles  with  an  open  gate,  and  then  a  number  of 
obstacles,  while  a  railed  pen  occupied  a  corner  of  the 
field.  Kit  gave  Grace  a  card  showing  the  way  the 
sheep  must  be  driven  round  the  different  barriers. 

"  It's  a  good  test,  particularly  as  we  can't  follow 
the  dogs  and  they  must  take  each  obstacle  in  its  proper 
turn." 

"  They  are  wonderfully  clever  to  understand,"  said 
Grace,  and  stopped  when  the  judge  shouted,  "  Time!  " 

The  farmer  called  his  dog,  a  handsome  smooth- 
haired  collie,  that  set  off  with  a  bound  and  drove  the 
sheep  at  full  speed  towards  the  furze.  As  they  came 
up,  with  fleeces  shaking  and  a  patter  of  little  feet,  the 
man  ran  to  the  length  of  the  string  and  waved  his 
stick. 

"  Away  back !  Gan  away  back !  T'ither  slap,  ye 
fule!" 

People  laughed  when  the  dog  in  desperate  haste 
stopped  the  sheep  as  the}-  packed  outside  a  hole,  but 
it  drove  them  to  the  next  gap,  through  which  they 
streamed. 

''  Forrad !  Gan  forrad !  "  cried  the  farmer.  "  Head 
them.  Merry  Lad !  '' 

The  dog  turned  the  sheep  and  brought  them  back 
through  another  opening,  after  which  they  raced  to- 
wards the  hurdles,  and  the  collie  hesitated  as  if  puz- 
zled by  its  master's  shouts.  The  sheep  were  near  the 
end  of  the  rails,  but  it  was  not  the  end  the  card  in- 
dicated. Then  the  dog  seemed  to  understand  what 
was  required,  and  circling  round  the  flock  with  swift, 
graceful  leaps,  drove  them  along  the  hurdles  and  round 
the  other  end. 

There  was  some  applause  from  the  crowd  and  af- 


THE  HORSE  SHOW  257 

terwards  good-humored  banter  when  the  dog  ran 
backwards  and  forwards  at  a  loss.  The  animal  ob- 
viously knew  the  flock  must  be  taken  round  the  re- 
maining obstacles,  but  had  only  its  master's  shouts  for 
guide  to  the  order  in  which  they  must  be  passed. 
Sometimes  the  farmer  got  angry  and  sometimes 
laughed,  but  except  for  a  mistake  or  two  the  collie  drove 
the  sheep  in  and  out  among  the  barriers  as  the  card 
required  and  put  them  in  the  pen. 

Two  or  three  more  trials  took  place,  and  for  the 
most  part,  the  unoccupied  dogs  strained  at  their  leads 
and  whimpered,  but  old  Bob  sat  at  Kit's  feet,  watching, 
with  his  head  on  one  side. 

"  One  can  see  he's  thinking ;  I  believe  he  wants  to 
remember  the  right  way  round,''  Grace  remarked,  and 
smiled  when  a  steward  beckoned  Kit.  "  It's  your 
turn,"  she  said.     "  I  wish  you  good  luck!  " 

Kit  went  off  with  his  heart  beating  and  felt  half 
amused  by  his  keenness  when  the  steward  tied  the  string 
to  his  leg.  After  his  adventures  on  the  Caribbean 
and  the  stakes  he  and  Adam  had  played  for,  it  was 
strange  he  should  be  eager  to  win  a  box  of  plated  forks 
at  a  rustic  show.  Yet,  he  was  eager;  Grace  had' 
wished  him  luck. 

"  Number  four;  Mr.  Askew's  Old  Bob!  "  the  stew- 
ard announced. 

Kit  called,  and  Bob,  trotting  away  deliberately,  got 
the  sheep  together  and  drove  them  correctly  through 
the  holes.  He  was  doing  well,  in  one  sense,  and  Kit 
knew  he  would  make  few  mistakes,  but  time  counted 
and  old  Bob  was  slow.  He  had  trouble  at  the  hurdles, 
where  the  sheep  seemed  resolved  to  go  the  wrong  way, 
but  he  stopped  them  and  took  them  back  to  the  proper 
end.  Kit  gave  very  few  orders,  although  he  looked 
at  his  watch  rather  anxiously.  Bob  understood  and 
could  be  trusted  to  do  his  work,  the  trouble  was  he 
might  not  finish  it  in  time.     At  length,  Kit  drew  a 


258        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

deep  breath,  and  put  back  his  watch.  The  sheep  were 
in  the  pen  and  there  was  a  minute  left. 

Kit  went  back  to  Grace,  and  Bob  trotted  up,  panting, 
with  his  tongue  hanging  out.  He  looked  at  Kit,  as  if 
for  approval ;  and  then,  after  wagging  his  tail  when 
his  master  spoke,  held  up  his  paw  to  Grace. 

"  Hallo!  "  said  Kit.  "  I  haven't  known  him  to  do 
that  before.     "  It's  not  a  sheepdog's  trick." 

"  I  taught  him,"  Grace  replied,  with  a  touch  of  color. 
"  He  has  not  forgotten,  and  really  deserves  to  be 
stroked." 

She  went  away,  but  she  gave  Kit  a  smile  across  the 
railing,  behind  which  she  stood  with  J\Irs.  Osborn, 
when  the  judge  called  out : 

"First  prize.  Number  Four;  Mr.  x^skew's  Bob!" 

When  lunch  was  served  in  a  big  tent  Osborn  sat  at 
the  top  of  the  table,  but  his  satisfaction  had  vanished. 
For  one  thing,  everybody  had  applauded  when  Askew 
won  the  prize;  the  fellow  was  obviously  a  favorite 
and  this  annoyed  him.  Then,  Drysdale's  sheep  were 
to  be  sold  by  auction  after  lunch  and  the  committee 
had  hinted  that  the  president  was  the  proper  person  to 
buy  the  flock.  Drysdale  sat  next  to  Kit  at  the  lx)ttom 
of  the  table.  He  was  a  little,  shabbily-dressed  man, 
with  a  brown  face,  and  a  twinkling  smile. 

"  Where  are  the  sheep?  "  Kit  asked. 

"  We'll  send  t'  band  for  them  presently.  Are  you 
gan  t'  bid?  " 

"  I  don't  know  until  I've  seen  them.  What  about 
their  quality?  " 

"  Weel,  it  might  be  better;  they're  gifts,  you  ken. 
There's  a  young  ram  might  suit  you;  he's  true  Carl- 
side  strain." 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  got  him  then.  I  can't  see 
Mayson  giving  away  good  breeding  stock." 

Drysdale  grinned.  Some  big  stanes  fell  on  t'  ram 
when  Mayson  was  bringing  flock  doon  Barra  ghyll. 


THE  HORSE  SHOW  259 

He  looks  a  bit  the  waur  o'  it,  but  you  can  tell  the  Carl- 
side  blood." 

"  I'll  see  what  I  think  about  the  animal,"  Kit  said 
with  a  laugh.  "Do  you  expect  a  good  sale?  The 
rich  people,  as  a  rule,  go  to  church." 

"  They'll  bid  aw  t'  same.  When  you  canna  stir  their 
generosity,  you  can  try  their  pride.  If  you  look  at  it 
one  way,  the  thing's  humorsome.  They  dinna  want 
to  help  me,  but  they  will." 

"  It's  possible,"  Kit  agreed.  "  I  don't  know  if  the 
plan's  above  suspicion,  but  you  need  the  money." 

"  It  will  be  weel  spent.  Hooiver,  I  must  be  off  and 
see  the  band  dinna  get  ower  much  to  drink." 

Drysdale  went  away  and  soon  afterwards  a  strange 
procession  headed  by  the  band  and  guarded  by  chil- 
dren, entered  the  field.  A  row  of  geese,  waddling 
solemnly  in  single  file,  came  first,  and  then  turkeys 
stalked  among  their  broods ;  a  boy  led  a  handsome  goat 
and  long-legged  calf,  and  in  the  rear  straggled  a  flock 
of  sheep.  iWhen  all  were  driven  into  pens  the  sale 
began  and  the  crowd  laughed  and  bantered  the  men 
who  bid.  In  the  meantime.  Kit  examined  the  sheep. 
Some  had  faults  and  the  ram  had  obviously  suffered 
from  its  accident.  It  was  clear,  though,  that  it  sprang 
from,  a  famous  stock,  and  Kit  knew  an  animal  trans- 
mits to  its  offspring  inherited  qualities  and  not  ac- 
quired defects.  He  recognized  the  stamp  of  breeding 
and  resolved  to  buy  the  sheep.  The  ram  was  worth 
much  more  than  he  imagined  the  shepherds  thought. 

He  went  back  to  the  stand  and  by  and  by  the  auc- 
tioneer praised  the  flock.  When  he  stopped,  there 
was  silence  for  a  few  moments  until  Osborn  nodded. 

"  A  cautious  beginning  often  makes  a  good  ending, 
but  we've  a  long  way  to  go  yet,"  the  auctioneer  re- 
marked.    "  Who'll  say  five  pounds  more?  " 

Thorn  made  a  sign,  and  the  auctioneer  raised  his 
hammer.     "  We've  got  a  start,  but  you  must  keep  it 


26o        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

up.  The  opportunity's  what  folks  call  unique;  you'll 
save  money  by  buying,  and  help  a  good  cause.  Don't 
know  which  will  appeal  to  you,  but  you  can  pay  your 
money,  and  take  your  choice." 

He  looked  about  while  the  crowd  laughed,  and  after 
two  or  three  flockmasters  advanced  the  price,  caught 
Kit's  eye.  "  Mr.  Askew's  a  judge  of  sheep.  We'll 
call  it  ten  pounds  rise!  " 

Kit  nodded,  and  Osborn  glanced  at  Thorn,  who 
shrugged.  The  latter  had  helped  to  start  the  bidding, 
which  was  all  he  meant  to  do,  and  Osborn  would  have 
tried  to  draw  out  after  making  another  offer,  had  he 
not  seen  Kit.  He  did  not  want  the  sheep,  although  he 
was  willing  to  buy  them  at  something  above  their 
proper  price.  Now,  however,  Askew^  was  his  an- 
tagonist, the  fellow  must  be  beaten. 

"  We  must  finish  the  sale  before  the  driving- 
matches,"  he  said.     "  Go  up  twenty  pounds." 

"  They'd  not  sell  near  it  if  you  sent  them  to  the 
market,"  a  farmer  remarked. 

"  Do  you  sell  pedigree  stock  to  butchers  ?  The  ram's 
worth  the  money,"  the  auctioneer  rejoined. 

On  the  whole.  Kit  agreed,  although  he  saw  that 
others  did  not.  Moreover  he  was  willing  to  run  some 
risk  by  helping  Drysdale,  whom  he  liked,  and  he  signed 
to  the  auctioneer.  The  farmers  stopped,  but  Osborn 
went  on.  He  had  not  liked  Peter  Askew  and  liked 
Kit  worse.  Father  and  son  had  opposed  him,  and  now 
the  young  upstart  was  proud  of  the  money  he  had, 
no  doubt,  got  by  dou1)tful  means.  He  would  not  let  the 
fellow  balk  him,  and  his  face  got  red  as  he  answered 
the  auctioneer's  inquiring  glance.  Presently  he  turned 
with  a  frown  as  Hayes  touched  his  arm. 

"  It's  an  extravagant  price,"  the  agent  remarked. 
"  They'll  want  a  check  and  your  account  is  getting  very 
low." 

"  You'll  have  to  cut  down  expenses,  then,"  Osborn 


THE  HORSE  SHOW  261 

answered  haughtily.  "  This  is  not  a  matter  about 
which  I  need  your  advice." 

Hayes  shrugged  and  Osborn  nodded  to  the  auc- 
tioneer when  Kit  made  another  bid.  He  felt  hot  and 
savage  and  wanted  a  drink,  but  could  not  leave  the 
stand.  Askew  meant  to  humiliate  him  and  he  must 
hold  out.  He  was  the  most  important  man  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  must  not  be  beaten  by  a  small 
farmer.  For  all  that,  the  sum  he  would  have  to  pay 
would  be  a  drain. 

After  the  next  bid  the  auctioneer  looked  at  Kit,  who 
smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Mr.  Osborn  takes  the  lot,"  the  auctioneer  remarked. 
"  He  has  paid  a  high  price  to  help  a  good  object,  but 
I  think  we  all  hope  the  next  lambing  season  will  give 
him  his  money  back." 

Osborn's  savage  satisfaction  was  spoiled  by  a  chilling 
doubt  and  he  went  off  to  look  for  Hayes. 

"  Give  the  fellow  a  check  for  the  sheep  on  the  estate 
account,"  he  said. 

"How  much?"  Hayes  asked,  and  looked  thought- 
ful when  Osborn  told  him. 

"  There  are  a  number  of  bills  to  meet  and  we'll  have 
no  money  coming  in  until  term-day." 

"Can't  you  put  off  the  bills?" 

"  I  think  not,"  Hayes  answered,  meaningly.  "  It 
mightn't  be  prudent.     Our  credit  is  not  too  good." 

Osborn  was  silent  for  a  moment  or  two.  "  Very 
well,"  he  said.  "  I'll  try  to  sell  the  sheep  to  some- 
body who'll  give  me  what  they're  really  worth.  Come 
over  to-morrow  and  we'll  talk  about  the  new  mort- 
gage." 

Then  he  went  back,  moodily,  to  join  the  judges  for 
the  driving-match. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    FLOOD 

ON  the  morning  after  the  show,  Osbom  walked  up 
and  down  the  terrace,  waiting  moodily  for  Hayes. 
It  was  a  rash  extravagance  to  buy  the  sheep  and  he 
blamed  Kit  for  this.  The  fellow  had  gone  on  bidding 
in  order  to  force  him  to  pay  a  high  price ;  besides,  the 
money  would  help  ?n  object  Osborn  did  not  approve. 
There  were  enough  chapels  in  the  neighborhood  and 
any  legislation  that  interfered  with  the  landlords'  priv- 
ileges got  its  warmest  support  at  such  places. 

The  sum  he  had  spent  was  not  remarkably  large  and 
he  had  cut  his  loss  by  selling  the  flock  to  a  farmer  at 
their  market  price,  but  this  was  about  half  what  he  had 
given  and  he  had  some  urgent  debts.  Although  he 
had  hoped  to  hold  out  until  term-day,  when  the  pay- 
ment of  rents  would  ease  the  strain  on  his  finances, 
he  must  have  money  and  did  not  know  where  it  could 
be  got  by  prudent  means. 

In  the  meantime,  he  looked  about  gloomily.  The 
weather  had  changed,  a  moist  west  wind  drove  heavy 
clouds  across  the  sky  and  the  fell-tops  were  hidden 
by  mist.  It  threatened  a  wet  hay-time  and  hay  was 
scarce  in  the  dale,  where  they  generally  cut  it  late 
after  feeding  sheep  on  the  meadows.  Osborn  farmed 
some  of  his  land  and  had  hoped  for  a  good  crop,  which 
he  needed.  The  grass  in  the  big  meadow  by  the  beck 
was  long  and  getting  ripe,  but  the  red  sorrel  that  grew 
among  it  had  lost  its  bright  color.  The  filling  heads 
rolled  in  waves  before  the  wind,  but  there  was  some- 
thing dull  and  lifeless  in  the  noise  they  made,  and  Os- 

262 


THE  FLOOD  263 

born  knew  what  this  meant.     Rain  was  coming  and 
when  rain  began  in  the  dale  it  did  not  stop. 

His  glance  rested  on  the  green  embankment  along 
the  beck.  His  father  had  made  the  dyke  at  a  heavy 
cost  but  in  places  the  stones  and  soil  had  gradually 
washed  away.  If  the  dyke  broke  at  one  spot,  the  beck 
would  return  to  its  old  channel  and  much  damage  might 
be  done,  particularly  if  the  floods  rolled  across  the 
turnip  fields.  Osborn  had  meant  to  strengthen  the 
dyke,  but  had  put  it  off  because  of  the  expense. 

A  little  later  Hayes  came  up  the  steps.  Osborn 
did  not  ask  him  to  sit  down,  although  there  was  room 
on  the  stone  bench,  and  the  agent  leaned  against  the 
terrace  wall.  His  face  was  inscrutable  but  he  re- 
marked his  employer's  rudeness. 

"  I  have  seen  Fisher  and  he  is  willing  to  take  a 
mortgage  on  Ryecote,"  he  said.  "  The  interest  is 
higher  than  I  thought,  but  the  money  would  pay  off 
urgent  bills  and  cover  the  cost  of  the  farmstead  re- 
pairs." 

"How  much  does  Fisher  want?"  Osborn  asked 
and  frowned  when  he  was  told.  "It's  unjust;  two 
per  cent,  above  the  proper  interest." 

"  I  can't  borrow  for  less.  However,  if  we  use  the 
money  judiciously,  we  ought  to  get  something  back 
by  higher  rents.  Lang  and  Grey,  for  example,  would 
pay  a  little  more  for  the  improvements  they  require." 

Osborn  pondered.  He  was  in  a  suspicious  mood 
and  thought  Hayes  wanted  to  negotiate  the  mortgage. 

"  When  I  have  satisfied  the  other  tenants  there 
won't  be  much  left  for  Lang  and  Grey,"  he  rejoined. 
"  My  experience  is  that  the  money  you  sink  in  im- 
provements is  gone  for  good." 

"  They  must  be  made,  for  all  that;  particularly  just 
now  when  a  dissatisfied  spirit  is  spreading  among  the 
farmers.  Askew  is  showing  them  what  can  be  done 
by  the  proper  use  of  capital." 


264         THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  Askew  I  "  Osborn  exclaimed.  "  Father  and  son, 
the  Askews  have  been  the  origin  of  the  worst  trouble 
I've  had." 

Hayes  was  willing  to  indulge  Osborn's  rancor  and 
derived  a  rather  malicious  satisfaction  from  seeing  him 
annoyed.  Besides,  he  did  not  want  to  dwell  upon 
the  mortgage. 

"  I  wonder  whether  you  know  Askew  has  bought 
Drysdale's  sheep?  " 

"  I  did  not  know.     I  sold  the  flock  to  Graham." 

"  Then  Askew  must  have  bought  them  soon  after- 
wards, unless  he  sent  Graham  to  make  the  deal  with 
you." 

Osborn's  face  got  red.  "  A  shabby  trick !  Un- 
thinkably  shabby,  after  he  forced  up  the  price,"  He 
paused,  and  tried  to  control  his  anger.  "  But  why 
did  he  buy  that  second-class  lot?  " 

"  There  was  a  Carlside  ram." 

"Only  fit  for  mutton;  I  studied  the  animal." 

"  Oh,  well !  Askew,  no  doubt,  thinks  he  is  a  judge. 
I  imagine  he  bought  the  others  in  order  to  get  the 
ram." 

"  He  cheated  me,"  said  Osborn,  with  a  savage  frown. 
"  The  fellow's  a  cunning  rogue.  I  wish  he  hadn't 
come  back  —  confound  him!  "  He  pulled  himself  up 
and  added  :  "  However,  about  the  mortgage.  I  sup- 
pose I  must  agree  to  Fisher's  terms.  See  him  and 
arrange  the  thing  as  soon  as  possible." 

Hayes  went  awa)'^  and  Osborn  lighted  a  cigar.  He 
had  a  disturbing  feeling  that  he  had  been  rash.  The 
money  would  not  last  long  and  if  he  had  not  borrowed 
it,  he  might  have  paid  the  interest  on  other  loans. 
Buying  the  sheep  had  really  decided  him  to  give  the 
mortgage,  since  it  had  made  him  feel  keenly  the  em- 
barrassment of  having  very  little  money  at  command. 
There  was  another  thing ;  Ha3^es  wanted  him  to  borrow 


THE  FLOOD  265 

the  fresh  sum,  although  a  prudent  agent  would  try 
to  keep  the  estate  out  of  debt.  He  could  not  see 
Hayes'  object  and  felt  suspicious,  but  while  he  pon- 
dered it  began  to  rain  and  he  went  into  the  house. 

It  rained  all  day  and  at  dusk  the  mist  had  crept  down 
the  hills.  The  long  grass  in  the  meadow  bent  before 
the  deluge  and  slanted  from  the  wind.  The  becks 
began  to  roar  in  the  gyhlls,  and  threads  of  foam 
glimmered  in  the  mist.  A  hoarse  turmoil  rose  from 
the  stream  that  fed  the  tarn,  and  an  angry  flood,  stained 
brown  by  peat,  rose  steadily  up  the  dyke.  There  was 
no  promise  of  better  weather  when  Osborn  went  to  bed, 
and  he  had  known  rain  like  that  last  for  a  week.  In 
fact,  he  had  known  all  the  hay  crop  and  the  most  part 
of  the  young  turnips  washed  down  the  valley. 

The  rain  was  heavier  when,  early  next  morning, 
Kit  went  out  to  move  some  sheep  from  a  spot  where 
the  rising  water  might  cut  them  off.  He  came  back 
along  the  meadow  dyke  and  stopped  for  a  few  minutes 
when  he  reached  its  weakest  place.  Reeds  and  tufts 
of  heather  whirled  down  the  brown  flood.  Wide 
patches  of  turf  and  soil  had  fallen  away,  uncovering  the 
foundation  of  boulders  and  gravel,  and  while  Kit  looked 
down  a  heavy  stone  rolled  out  of  its  place  and  plunged 
into  the  stream.  Others  were  ready  to  go;  the  water 
was  rising  ominously  fast  and  would  rise  for  some 
time  after  the  rain  stopped.  There  was,  however, 
nothing  to  indicate  that  it  would  stop,  and  Kit,  knowing 
his  native  climate,  looked  about  with  some  uneasiness. 

A  hollow  across  the  meadow  to  a  hedge,  behind 
which  were  two  large  turnip  fields,  and  he  knew  this 
marked  a  former  channel  of  the  beck.  It  was  long 
since  the  water  had  flowed  that  way,  but  his  father 
had  told  him  that  in  heavy  floods  it  had  some  times 
spread  across  the  fields  and  joined  the  other  stream 
at  Allerby.     If  this  happened  again,  the  bottom  of 


266        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

the  dale  would  be  covered  and  the  crops  ruined.  When 
he  was  going  away,  three  or  four  men  with  picks  and 
spades  came  up. 

"  Are  you  going  to  mend  the  dyke  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  We're  gan  to  try,"  said  one.  "  I  reckon  we'll 
not  can  hoad  her  up  if  beck  rises  much." 

"  She'll  rise  three  or  four  feet,"  said  Kit.  "  Is  no- 
body else  coming?  " 

"  Neabody  we  ken  aboot.  Mr.  Osborn  sent  to  Al- 
lerby  first  thing,  but  miller  wadn't  let  him  have  a 
man." 

Kit  thought  hard.  Bell  had  given  up  the  mill  and 
his  successor  had  a  dispute  with  Hayes.  To  repair 
the  dyke  properly  would  be  a  long  and  expensive  busi- 
ness, since  there  were  a  number  of  weak  spots,  but  a 
dozen  men,  working  hard,  might  perhaps  strengthen 
the  threatened  part  sufficiently  to  bear  the  strain. 
Clearly,  if  they  were  to  be  of  use,  they  must  be  found 
and  set  to  work  at  once.  In  a  sense,  the  risk  was  Os- 
born's,  who  would  pay  for  his  neglect,  but  the  flood 
might  damage  his  tenants'  fields,  and  even  if  the  dam- 
age were  confined  to  Osborn's,  Kit  hated  to  see  crops 
spoiled. 

''  You  had  better  begin,"  he  said.  "  I'll  try  to  get 
help." 

"  Mayhappen  folks  will  come  for  you,  though  they 
wadn't  for  t'  maister,"  one  replied.  "  We'll  need  aw 
you  can  get  before  lang." 

Kit  set  off  as  fast  as  he  could  walk  and,  stopping 
for  a  minute  at  Ashness,  sent  his  men.  Then  he  went 
on  to  Allerby  and  at  first  found  the  farmers  unwilling 
to  move,  but  after  some  argument  they  went  with  him 
to  the  mill. 

"  We'll  hear  what  miller  has  to  say,"  one  remarked. 
**  He  kens  maist  aboot  the  job,  sin'  he  had  t'  mend  t' 
lade  when  Hayes  refused.  For  aw  that,  mending  dyke 
is  landlord's  business." 


THE  FLOOD  267 

"  I'll  not  stir  a  hand  to  save  Osborn's  crops,"  the 
miller  declared  when  he  met  them  at  the  door.  "  His 
oad  rogue  o'  an  agent  promised  me  he'd  build  up 
brocken  lade,  but  when  time  came  I  had  to  do't  my- 
sel'." 

Two  of  the  others  grumbled  about  promises  Hayes 
had  not  kept,  and  then  Kit  said,  "  All  this  is  not  im- 
portant. I  don't  ask  you  to  mend  the  dyke  for  Os- 
born's  sake  but  yours.  If  the  beck  breaks  through 
and  runs  down  to  Allerby,  it  will  spoil  all  the  hay  and 
fill  the  mill-lead  with  rubbish." 

"  Then  we'll  get  compensation.  Landlord's  bound 
to  keep  dyke  in  order." 

Kit  smiled.  "  You'll  get  nothing,  unless  you  go 
to  law  and  I  don't  know  if  you'll  get  much  then. 
Hayes  is  clever  and  the  dispute  would  be  expensive. 
You'll  certainly  find  it  cheaper  to  mend  the  dyke." 

They  pondered  this,  until  the  miller  made  a  sign  of 
agreement. 

''  I'll  not  can  say  you're  wrang.  I'm  coming  with  my 
two  men." 

Kit  told  him  to  bring  a  horse  and  cart  and  the  party 
set  off  for  the  threatened  bank.  The  beck  had  risen 
while  Kit  was  away  and  stones  and  soil  slipped  down 
into  the  flood.  An  angry  turmoil  indicated  that  the 
current  had  rolled  the  rubbish  into  a  dam. 

"  We've  gotten  our  job,"  said  the  miller  as  he  drove 
in  his  spade. 

They  got  to  work,  but  the  current  that  undermined 
the  bank  brought  down  the  turf  and  soil  with  which 
they  tried  to  fill  the  holes.  It  was  plain  that  a  stronger 
material  was  needed  and  Kit  sent  some  men  to  a  road- 
maker's  quarry  at  the  bottom  of  the  fell  while  he  re- 
arranged some  harness.  When  he  had  finished  he 
fastened  an  extra  horse  outside  the  shafts  of  the  carts 
and  two  men  drove  the  teams  across  the  field.  They 
went  off  fast,  jolting  the  carts  by  their  clumsy  trof. 


268        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

but  Kit  knew  the  extra  horse  would  be  needed  when 
they  returned.  Soon  afterwards,  Osborn  came  up 
the  other  bank  and  stopped  opposite  with  the  rain  run- 
ning off  his  mackintosh. 

"  Has  anybody  given  you  leave  to  meddle  v.'ith  the 
dyke?  "  he  asked. 

"No,"  said  Kit.  "We'll  let  it  alone,  if  you  like, 
but  there  won't  be  much  of  your  hay  left  when  the 
flood  breaks  through,  and  I  imagine  3'ou  could  be  made 
responsible  for  other  damage." 

Osborn  hesitated  and  Kit,  seeing  his  frown,  began 
to  wonder  whether  he  would  send  him  away.  Then 
he  resumed:     "  Who  engaged  these  men?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  they  are  engaged.  Anyhow, 
if  tliere's  a  difficulty  dbout  their  getting  paid,  I'm  ac- 
countable." 

"  Bring  them  to  Tarnside  when  you  have  finished," 
Osborn  answered  and  went  off. 

Kit  resumed  his  work  with  savage  energy.  He 
thought  Osborn  did  not  deserve  to  be  helped,  but  this 
did  not  matter  much.  Others  would  suffer  unless  he 
finished  the  job  he  had  undertaken  and  it  almost  looked 
as  if  the  flood  would  beat  him.  The  trench  from 
which  they  dug  the  soil  they  needed  filled  with  water, 
the  spades  got  slippery  with  rain  and  mud,  and  the 
horses  sank  in  the  trampled  slough.  Kit,  however, 
had  made  his  plans  while  he  looked  for  help  and  had 
forgotten  nothing  that  he  might  want.  Hammers, 
drills,  and  a  can  of  powder  had  been  brought,  and  now 
and  then  a  dull  report  rolled  across  the  dale  and  heavy 
stones  crashed  in  the  quarry. 

When  he  had  stone  enough  he  and  one  or  two  others 
stood  on  the  front  of  the  bank  with  the  water  washing 
round  their  legs  while  they  built  up  the  ragged  blocks. 
The  pieces  were  hard  to  fit  and  sometimes  the  rude  wall 
broke  when  the  men  on  top  threw  down  the  backing 
of  soil.     Kit  tore  his  hand  on  a  sharp  corner,  but  per- 


THE  FLOOD  269 

sisted  while  the  blood  ran  down  his  fingers  and  his 
wet  clothes  stuck  to  his  skin.  The  others  supported 
him  well  and  he  only  stopped  for  breath  and  to  wipe 
from  his  eyes  the  water  that  trickled  off  his  soaked 
hat.  The  loaded  cart,  ploughing  through  the  mire, 
met  the  other  going  back ;  the  men  at  the  quarry  kept 
him  supplied,  and  when  he  had  made  a  founrlation 
the  bank  began  to  rise.  For  all  that,  the  beck  rose 
almost  as  fast,  and  at  noon  they  had  not  gained  much 
on  the  flood.  Kit  was  doubtful,  but  on  the  whole 
thought  it  prudent  to  let  the  men  stop.  They  had 
worked  hard  and  could  not  keep  it  up  without  a  rest. 

When  they  collected  with  their  dinner  cans  under  a 
dripping  hedge,  one  remarked :  "  Mayhappen  we'd 
better  wait  for  Osborn  to  send  cold  meat  and  ale.  I'll 
mak'  a  start  with  bread  and  cheese." 

The  others  grinned,  but  Kit  got  up  as  he  heard  a 
rattle  of  wheels.  "  Don't  begin  just  yet.  Two  of  you 
go  to  the  gate." 

The  men  came  back  with  a  big  jar  and  a  basket, 
and  the  others  gathered  round  when  Kit  took  off  the 
clean,  wet  cloth. 

"  Yon  lunch  niver  came  f ra  Tarnside ;  it's  ower  good 
and  liberal,"  said  one.  "  Ashness  folk  dinna  believe  in 
sending  a  half-empty  jar." 

When  they  had  eaten  and  drunk,  one  or  two  tried  to 
light  their  pipes  but  gave  it  up  and  they  got  to  work 
again.  Kit's  hand  hurt;  it  was  long  since  he  had  un- 
dertaken much  manual  labor,  and  his  muscles  felt  hor- 
ribly stiff.  He  knew,  however,  that  the  men  needed 
a  leader,  not  a  superintendent,  and  he  would  not  urge 
them  to  efforts  he  shirked.  And  a  leader  w^as  all  they 
needed.  They  had  no  liking  for  Osborn,  but  they  were 
stubborn  and  now  they  had  begim  they  meant  to  finish. 
Shovels  clinked,  stones  rattled  from  the  carts,  and  the 
pile  of  earth  and  rock  rose  faster  than  the  f^ood. 

In  the  meantime  the  mist  got  thicker  and  the  rain 


270        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

swept  the  valley.  The  long  grass  near  the  trench 
was  trodden  into  pulp,  where  the  turf  was  cut,  the  sur- 
face of  the  bank  melted,  and  the  men  stumbled  as  they 
climbed  it  with  their  loads.  The  wheelbarrows  poured 
down  water  as  well  as  sticky  soil,  and  Kit's  clothes 
got  stiff  with  mud.  Despite  this,  he  held  out  until,  in 
the  evening,  the  strengthened  dyke  stood  high  above 
the  stream.  Then  he  threw  down  his  spade  and 
stretched  his  aching  arms. 

"  I  think  she'll  hold  the  water  back  and  we  can  do 
no  more,"  said  Kit. 

The  others  gathered  up  their  tools  and  climbing  into 
the  carts  drove  down  the  dale.  When  they  reached 
the  Tarnside  lodge  Kit  pulled  up. 

"  You  have  done  a  good  job  for  Osborn  and  there's 
no  reason  you  shouldn't  get  your  pay,"  he  said. 

Two  or  three  jumped  down,  without  much  enthusi- 
asm, and  the  old  gardener  came  out  and  gave  one  an 
envelope. 

"  For  Mr.  Askew%"  he  remarked. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  the  other  asked,  and  the  gardener 
grinned. 

"  That's  all.     What  did  you  expect?  " 

The  man  took  the  envelope  to  Kit  and  the  rest  waited 
with  some  curiosity.  They  were  very  tired  and  big 
drops  fell  on  them  as  the  wind  shook  the  dripping 
trees.  Kit  opened  the  envelope  and  his  face  flushed 
as  he  took  out  a  note  addressed  to  Hayes. 

"  Pay  C.  Askew  and  the  men  whose  names  follow 
one  day's  wages,  on  estate  account,"  it  ran. 

This  was  all  and  the  sum  noted  at  the  bottom  repre- 
sented the  lowest  payment  for  unskilled  labor.  Kit 
handed  the  note  to  his  companions  and  while  some 
laughed  ironically  two  or  three  swore. 

"  Next  time  beck's  in  flood  Osborn  can  mend  his 
dyke  himsel',"  said  one.     "  If  five  minutes'  digging 


THE  FLOOD  271 

wad  save  Tarnside  Hall,  I'd  sooner  lose  my  hay  than 
stir  a  hand !  " 

Then  they  got  into  the  carts,  and  drove  oti  in  the 
rain. 


CHAPTER  V 

KIT    TELLS   A    STORY 

THE  rain  stopped  at  night,  the  next  day  was  fine, 
and  in  the  afternoon  Kit  went  up  the  dale  to  look 
at  the  mended  dyke.  It  had  stood  better  than  he  had 
thought,  the  beck  was  falling,  and  Osborn's  fields  were 
safe  until  another  flood  came  down.  Kit  did  not  know 
if  he  was  pleased  or  not.  There  was  some  satisfac- 
tion in  feeling  that  he  had  done  a  good  job,  but  he  did 
not  think  Osborn  deserved  the  help  his  neighbors  had 
given.  Following  the  dyke  until  he  came  to  the  road, 
he  sat  down  on  the  bridge  and  lighted  his  pipe. 

The  sun  was  hot  and  he  was  glad  of  the  shade  of  a 
big  alder  whose  leaves  rustled  languidly  overhead. 
The  bent-grass  on  the  hillside  shone  a  warm  yellow, 
wet  rocks  glittered  like  silver  in  the  strong  light,  and 
the  higher  slopes,  where  belts  of  green  moss  checkered 
the  heather,  were  streaked  by  lines  of  snowy  foam. 
All  was  very  quiet,  except  for  the  noise  of  running 
water  and  the  joyous  notes  of  a  lark.  Kit  was  not 
much  of  a  philosopher;  action  was  easier  to  him  than 
abstract  thought,  but  he  vaguely  felt  that  the  serenity 
of  the  dale  was  marred  by  human  passion.  Man  was, 
no  doubt,  meant  to  struggle,  but  Nature  was  his  proper 
antagonist,  and  while  the  fight  against  floods  and  snow 
was  bracing,  one  gained  nothing  by  shabby  quarrels 
that  sprang  from  pride  and  greed. 

Kit  was  human,  however,  and  owned  that  he  had 
felt  savage  when  he  read  Osborn's  note.  The  fellow 
had  meant  to  humiliate  him,  and  he  got  hot  again  as 

272 


KIT  TELLS  A  STORY  273 

he  thought  about  it.  Moreover,  O shorn  had,  so  to 
speak,  for  his  sake,  insulted  the  men  he  had  persuaded 
to  help.  They  had  not  worked  for  wages,  when  they 
fought  the  swollen  beck,  and  some  kindly  acknowledg- 
ment, such  as  a  supper  at  the  hall,  would  have  gone 
far  to  gain  for  Osborn  a  good  will  that  money  could 
not  buy.  Anyhow,  since  he  offered  pay,  the  sum  ought 
to  have  been  a  just  reward  for  their  toil. 

Osborn  had  been  led  by  personal  rancor,  and  there 
was  no  use  in  Kit's  pretending  he  did  not  resent  it. 
The  fellow  seemed  to  think  he  had  a  right  to  com- 
mand, and  got  savage  when  people  would  not  obey. 
Kit  felt  he  had  done  nothing  to  deserve  his  hatred,  but 
since  Osborn  did  hate  him,  he  must  brace  himself  for 
a  struggle,  and  he  meant  to  win.  Then,  as  he  knocked 
out  his  pipe,  he  saw  Grace. 

For  a  few  moments  Kit  hesitated.  If  Grace  knew 
how  Osborn  had  rewarded  him,  the  meeting  might  be 
awkward,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  put- 
ting it  off.  He  meant  to  marry  Grace,  whether  Osborn 
approved  or  not,  and  to  some  extent  frankness  was 
needful.  He  waited  until  she  reached  the  bridge  and 
got  up  when  she  stopped.  There  was  some  color  in 
her  face,  but  she  gave  him  a  steady  look. 

"  I  have  been  to  see  the  mended  dyke,"  she  said, 
and  he  knew  that  she  had  pluck. 

"  It's  a  rough  job.  There  was  no  time  to  finish  it 
neatly." 

"  I'm  surprised  you  were  able  to  finish  it  at  all." 

"  I  mustn't  claim  all  the  credit,"  Kit  rejoined,  smil- 
ing. "  Th«re  were  a  number  of  others  as  well  as  the 
Tarnside  men." 

Grace  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "  Our  men  could 
have  done  nothing  useful  if  they  had  been  left  alone, 
and  the  others  v^^ouldn't  have  helped  if  you  had  not 
persuaded  them.     Why  did  you?  " 

"To  some  extent,  my  object  was  selfish.     If  the 


274        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

flood  had  broken  through,  it  might  h:ue  done  much 
damage  to  all  the  crops,  besides  your  father's." 

"  It  could  not  have  damaged  yours." 

"  Oh,  well."  said  Kit.  *'  I  hate  to  see  things  spoiled, 
and  am  afraid  I'm  meddlesome." 

Grace's  color  rose,  but  she  fixed  her  eyes  on  him. 
"That  is  not  kind;  I  hardly  think  it's  just.  I  have 
not  accused  you  of  meddling." 

"  No,"  said  Kit ;  "  I'm  sorr}- !  It  was  a  stupid  re- 
mark. But  I  expect  you  know  what  your  father 
thinks.'' 

Grace  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  She  did  know 
and  would  rather  not  have  met  Kit,  but  was  too  proud 
to  turn  back.  Besides,  she  felt  her  father  was  preju- 
diced, and  although  H  was  a  family  tradition  that  the 
Osborns  stood  together,  she  rebelled  and  wanted  to  be 
just.  The  situation  was  embarrassing,  but  there  was 
no  use  in  pretense. 

"  I  think  you  were  generous  and  imagine  my  mother 
agrees."  she  said.  "  She  wanted  to  send  some  lunch 
to  the  beck,  but  the  rain  was  very  heavy  and  there  was 
nobody  to  go."  Then,  remembering  something  Osbom 
had  said,  she  hesitated.  "  I  understand  your  helpers 
were  paid.'' 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Kit.  not  with  malice,  but  because 
he  saw  he  must  be  frank.     "  I  was  not  left  out." 

Grace  turned  her  head.  This  was  worse  than  she 
had  thought.  She  was  angry,  and  would  not  let  Kit 
think  she  approved.  Her  eyes  sparkled  as  she  looked 
up.  "Ah,"  she  said,  "you  deserved  something  very 
different !     I  wish  you  had  not  told  me !  " 

"  I  didn't  teU  you  because  I  was  hurt,"  Kit  replied 
with  grave  quietness.  "  It  looks  as  if  we  had  got  to 
face  things.  Your  father  thinks  me  his  enemy.  I'm 
not;  I  have  never  tried  to  injure  him.  and  if  the  dyke 
was  threatened  by  another  flood,  I  believe  I'd  mend  it. 


KIT  TELLS  A  STORY 


/3 


But,  whatever  happens,  I  mean  to  do  what  I  think 
proper,  and  it's  possible  we  may  clash  again." 

"  Yes,"  said  Grace.  "  I  am  afraid  this  may  hap- 
pen." 

"  Well,  I  value  your  friendship  and  don't  mean  to 
give  it  up,  but  I  can't  pretend,  and  think  you  wouldn't 
be  deceived  if  I  tried." 

"  You  mean  you  would  not  do  what  you  thought 
was  shabby  in  order  to  avoid  a  clash  ?  " 

"  I  mean  something  like  that.  Now  you  k-now  how 
things  are,  you  must  choose  your  line.  I  can't  judge 
how  far  your  duty  to  your  parents  binds  you;  you 
can. 

Grace  felt  her  heart  beat  and  was  silent  for  a  moment 
or  two. 

"  I  cannot  criticize  my  father's  deeds  and  agree  with 
people  who  are  opposed  to  him,"  she  said.  "  All  the 
same,  unless  he  expressly  orders  it,  I  cannot  give  up 
my  friends." 

Kit  tried  to  hide  his  satisfaction,  "  We'll  let  it  go; 
I  understand !  " 

He  expected  her  to  move  away,  and  wondered 
whether  it  was  tactful  for  him  to  stop,  but  to  his  sur- 
prise she  smiled  and  sat  down  on  the  bridge. 

"  Very  well.  Suppose  we  talk  about  something 
else?  The  shade  is  nice,  and  I  need  not  go  home  yet. 
You  promised  to  tell  me  about  your  adventures  and 
your  uncle.  I  think  you  called  him  a  survival  from 
the  old  romantic  days  when  the  pirates  haunted  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico." 

Kit  pondered  as  he  leaned  against  the  alder  trunk. 
He  thought  Grace  meant  to  banish  the  strain ;  anyhow\ 
she  was  willing  to  stay  and  he  wanted  her  to  do  so.  It 
was  strangely  pleasant  to  loiter  on  the  bridge  with  her 
while  the  shadows  trembled  on  the  road  and  the  beck 
murmured  in  the  shade.     But  if  he  meant  to  keep  her, 


276        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

he  must  talk,  and  although  he  did  not  want  to  say 
much  about  his  adventures  he  had  a  story  to  tell.  The 
story  was  moving,  if  he  could  tell  it  properly. 

"  I'm  not  clever  at  drawing  a  portrait,  but  I'd  like  to 
try,"  he  said.  "  For  one  thing,  my  subject's  worth  the 
effort;  and  then,  you  see,  I  was  fond  of  Adam.  In 
some  ways,  he  was  not  romantic;  in  fact,  he  was  re- 
markably practical.  His  bold  strokes  were  made  delib- 
erately, after  calculating  the  cost;  but  now  and  then 
one  got  a  hint  of  something  strangely  romantic  and  in 
a  sense  extravagant.  Yet  human  nature's  curious. 
When  he  played  out  a  losing  game,  knowing  he  would 
lose,  it  was  not  from  sentimental  impulse  but  a  firm 
persuasion  it  was  worth  while."  He  paused,  and  gave 
Grace  an  apologetic  glance.  "  I'm  afraid  this  is  rather 
foggy.  Perhaps  I'd  better  begin  where  I  met  him,  at 
a  Florida  hotel  —  if  I'm  not  boring  you." 

Grace  said  she  was  not  bored  and  Kit,  gaining  confi- 
dence, narrated  how  they  bumped  the  Rio  Negro  across 
the  surf-swept  shoals,  landed  the  guns,  and  met  Al- 
varez. His  own  part  in  their  adventures  was  lightly 
indicated,  but  the  girl's  imagination  supplied  what  he 
left  out.  She  felt  strangely  interested  as  Kit's  por- 
trait of  his  uncle  grew  into  shape,  although  her  thoughts 
dwelt  largely  on  the  artist.  Then  the  background  — 
the  steamy  swamp,  old  presidio,  and  dazzling  town  — 
had  a  romantic  fascination,  and  when  he  told  her  about 
the  journey  to  the  mission  and  the  church  where  the 
candles  that  Adam  sent  burned  before  the  Virgin's 
shrine,  her  eyes  shone. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "I  am  glad  you  told  me!  One 
thinks  better  of  human  nature  after  hearing  a  tale  like 
that.  In  a  way,  it's  a  rebuke.  x\re  such  men  numer- 
ous?" 

"  I  have  known  two.  Perhaps  it's  a  coincidence  that 
both  were  my  relations.  They're  commoner  than  peo- 
ple think." 


KIT  TELLS  A  STORY  277 

"  You're  an  optimist,  but  one  likes  optimists,"  Grace 
remarked  with  a  gentle  smile.  "  However,  what  had 
the  president  done  to  deserve  the  sacrifice  your  uncle 
made?" 

"  I  never  knew,  but  suspect  it  was  something  against 
the  laws  of  his  countr}^  If  I  told  my  story  properly, 
you  would  understand  that  both  were  buccaneers." 

"  But  they  had  their  code !  I  like  the  president  and 
your  uncle  was  very  fine.  One  feels  moved  when  one 
thinks  about  the  shabby  little  altar  and  the  candles  love 
had  Hghted  that  never  went  out  —  all  those  years! 
Adam's  wife  loved  him.  She  went  to  nurse  him,  al- 
though her  friends  warned  her  and  she  knew  the  risk." 
Grace  mused  for  a  time  and  Kit  thought  her  face 
disturbed.     Then  she  looked  up  quietly. 

"  One  needs  courage  to  know  the  risk  and  not  to 
hesitate.     But  you  will  keep  those  candles  burning?  " 
"  Yes,"  said  Kit,  "  I  promised.     Besides,  I  like  to 
think  they're  burning.     It  means  something." 

"  It  means  much,"  Grace  agreed,  and  after  a  pause 
resumed :  "  You  had  no  doubt  about  taking  up  your 
uncle's  engagement  with  the  president,  although  you 
saw  what  it  might  cost?  " 

"Of  course  not,"  Kit  replied.  "  There  was  nothing 
else  to  be  done." 

Grace  smiled  and  got  up.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  there 
was  nothing  else  you  could  do.  Well,  I  must  go 
home." 

Kit  went  back  with  her  for  some  distance.  They 
talked  but  little  on  the  way,  but  when  she  left  him  she 
gave  him  her  hand  and  a  look  that  made  his  heart  beat. 
Soon  after  Grace  reached  Tarnside,  Osborn  crossed 
the  lawn  to  the  tea-table  where  she  and  Mrs.  Osborn 
sat  beneath  a  spreading  copper-beech.  His  face  was 
thoughtful  when  Mrs.  Osborn  gave  him  a  cup. 

"  I  met  the  post  as  I  was  driving  home,"  he  said. 
"  There's  a  letter  from  Gerald." 


278        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  Has  he  any  news  ?  "  Mrs.  Osborn  asked. 

"  Nothing  important.  He's  well  and  says  he's  kept 
occupied,  which  is  fortunate.  In  fact,  the  harder  they 
work  him,  the  better;  I'd  sooner  Gerald  did  not  have 
much  time  on  his  hands." 

"Then,  why  did  he  write?"  Grace  asked,  because 
Gerald's  letters  were  by  no  means  regular. 

"  I  hope  he  did  not  want  money,"  Mrs.  Osborn  re- 
marked. 

"  No,"  said  Osborn.  "  That  is,  he  did  not  want  it 
for  himself."  He  hesitated,  and  then  resumed :  "  He 
states  that  if  I  could  raise  a  moderate  sum,  he  knows 
how  we  could  make  a  very  satisfactory  profit  in  a  short 
time.     It  seems  he  has  got  a  useful  hint." 

Grace  laughed.  "About  a  racehorse?  Gerald  is 
always  hopeful,  but  his  confidence  in  his  ability  to  spot 
the  winner  is  dangerous.  It  has  been  so  often  mis- 
placed." 

"  This  has  nothing  to  do  with  racing,"  Osborn  re- 
joined angrily.  "  Gerald  knows  the  consequences  of 
indulging  his  folly  again.  There's  a  difference  between 
betting  and  buying  shares." 

"  I  don't  know  if  the  difference  is  very  marked," 
said  Grace,  with  a  curious  feeling  of  annoyance,  for 
there  was  a  note  in  Osborn's  voice  that  jarred.  He 
was,  like  Gerald,  a  gambler,  greedy  for  money  he  had 
not  earned,  and  she  thought  about  the  story  Kit  had 
told.  Its  hero  had  risked  and  lost  his  life,  and  Kit 
had  paid  in  health  and  fortune,  because  they  put  honor 
before  gain.  For  all  that,  she  knew  she  had  said 
enough  when  she  saw  Osborn's  frown. 

"  Gerald  is  young,  but  he  holds  a  responsible  post 
and  has  opportunities  of  meeting  important  stock- 
brokers and  business  men,"  Osborn  went  on,  turning  to 
his  wife.  "  He  is,  of  course,  optimistic  and  has  been 
rash,  but  after  all  he  may  have  found  out  something 


KIT  TELLS  A  STORY  279 

useful.     He  declares  the  venture  is  absolutely  safe." 

"  But  you  have  no  money  to  invest,"  Mrs.  Osborn 
insisted  anxiously. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  some.  You  see,  I 
borrowed  a  sum  not  long  since  on  Ryecote." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Mrs.  Osborn,  with  a  resigned  gesture, 
and  then  braced  herself.  "  But  if  you  have  got  the 
money,  it  ought  not  to  be  used  for  speculation.  There 
is  much  that  needs  to  be  done  on  the  estate." 

"  That  is  so ;  it  was  my  reason  for  borrowing.  All 
the  same,  it  would  be  a  very  long  time  before  I  got 
back  what  I  meant  to  spend  on  drains  and  steadings. 
Besides,  the  repairs  and  improvements  need  not  be 
made  just  yet,  and  I  might  be  able  to  use  the  money 
and  earn  a  good  profit  first." 

"  You  might  lose  it  all,"  Mrs.  Osborn  insisted. 
"  Gerald  is  rash  and  business  men  don't  tell  young 
bank-clerks  important  secrets.  Then,  although  it  was 
a  shock  to  hear  you  had  mortgaged  Ryecote,  the  money 
is  so  badly  needed  that  it  must  not  be  risked."  She 
paused  and  resumed  with  some  color  in  her  face,  "  It 
is  hard  to  own,  but  perhaps  Gerald  is  not  altogether  to 
be  trusted." 

Osborn  moved  abruptly.  His  wife  had  touched  the 
doubt  that  made  him  hesitate ;  in  fact,  this  was  a  mat- 
ter upon  which  he  wanted  her  advice.  She  knew  her 
son  and  had  judged  right  when  Osborn  had  been  de- 
ceived. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  knitting  his  brows,  "  I  haven't  quite 
decided.  I  had  thought  about  asking  for  particulars, 
but  after  all  Gerald's  hint  may  not  be  worth  much  and 
unless  one  is  really  well  informed  speculation  is  dan- 
gerous." 

He  looked  round  and  saw  Thorn.  The  latter  had 
come  up  without  disturbing  the  group  and  now  joined 
them  with  a  smile. 


28o        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  I  heard  your  last  remark,''  he  said.  "  My  opinion 
is  your  views  are  sound.  It  is  very  rash  to  speculate 
on  shares  you  don't  know  much  about." 

Mrs.  Osborn  felt  disturbed,  because  she  wondered 
how  much  he  had  heard,  but  he  went  on  carelessly : 
"  Gerald's  too  young  for  one  to  trust  his  judgment. 
My  advice  is,  leave  the  thing  alone." 

Grace  gave  him  a  grateful  glance.  She  did  not  like 
Alan  Thorn,  but  he  was  cautious  and  she  saw  that 
Osborn  was  hesitating.  It  would  not  need  much  per- 
suasion to  move  him  one  way  or  the  other,  and  she 
felt  that  to  let  Gerald  have  the  money  would  be  a 
dangerous  mistake. 

"You  really  think  I  had  better  keep  out  of  it?" 
Osborn  asked. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Thorn.  "  Only  a  few  of  the  big 
jobbers  can  form  an  accurate  notion  how  prices  ought 
to  go.  For  people  like  us  speculation  is  a  plunge  in 
the  dark." 

Osborn  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  but  Grace 
saw  that  he  was  pulled  in  different  ways  by  caution  and 
greed.  Then,  to  her  relief,  he  made  a  sign  of  agree- 
ment. 

"  Oh,  well !     I'll  let  the  thing  alone." 

Thorn  sat  down  and  when  Airs.  Osborn  had  given 
him  some  tea  they  talked  about  other  matters.  Pres- 
ently Grace  got  up  and  he  walked  with  her  across  the 
lawn. 

"  Were  you  satisfied  with  the  advice  I  gave  your  fa- 
ther? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Grace  frankly.  "  I  think  he  was 
tempted ;  I  was  glad  you  came." 

"  After  all,  a  hint  that  he'd  better  be  prudent  did  not 
cost  me  much.  You  know  I'd  do  more  than  that  to 
help  you." 

"  You  did  all  that  was  necessary,"  Grace  replied. 
"  You  have  my  thanks." 


KIT  TELLS  A  STORY  281 

Thorn  glanced  at  her  keenly,  but  there  was  some- 
thing chilling  in  her  calm. 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  London  in  a  day  or  two  and 
it  might  be  advisable  to  look  Gerald  up.  I  will,  if 
you  like." 

"  Yes,"  said  Grace.  "If  it  doesn't  give  you  much 
trouble." 

She  left  him  and  Thorn  stood  still,  frowning. 
Grace  was  always  like  that,  friendly  but  elusive.  No 
matter  how  he  tried,  he  could  not  break  down  her 
reserve. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THORN    MAKES   A   PLAN 

THORN  went  up  to  town  and  one  evening  loitered 
about  the  hall  of  his  club.  London  rather  bored 
hirn,  but  he  went  there  now  and  then,  because  he  felt 
one  ought  to  keep  in  touch  with  things.  It  was,  in  a 
sense,  one's  duty  to  know  what  was  going  on,  and  the 
news  he  picked  up  helped  him  to  look  well  mformed. 
Thorn  had  not  much  imagination,  but  he  was  cautious, 
calculating,  and  generally  saw  where  his  advantage  lay. 
His  small  estate  was  managed  well,  in  general  his  ten- 
ants liked  him,  and  his  investments  were  sound.  Nev- 
ertheless, he  was  dissatisfied;  he  had  waited  long  for 
Grace  Osborn,  and  feared  that  in  spite  of  her  father's 
approval  he  got  no  nearer  her. 

Alan  Thorn  was  not  romantic  but  his  love  for  Grace 
was,  to  some  extent,  a  generous  emotion.  He  knew 
Osborn's  poverty,  and  it  was  plain  that  if  he  married 
Grace  he  might  have  to  help  him  out  of  his  embarrass- 
ments. He  was  fond  of  money  and  had  grounds  for 
imagining  that  the  daughter  of  a  rich  neighbor  would 
not  refuse  him ;  but  he  wanted  Grace  and  saw  he  could 
not  wait  much  longer.  He  was  fastidious  about  his 
clothes,  and  their  color  and  loose  cut  prevented  people 
remarking  that  he  was  getting  fat;  his  dark  hair  was 
carefully  brushed.  He  knew,  however,  that  he  was 
getting  heavier  fast  and  that  he  would  soon  be  bald. 

He  had  meant  to  go  out,  but  had  no  particular  ob- 
ject and  the  streets  were  hot;  besides,  after  the  quiet 
country,  he  liked  the  bustle  in  the  hall.  People  were 
beginning  to  come  in  and  one  could  see  the  crowd 

282 


THORN  MAKES  A  PLAN  283 

stream  past  the  glass  doors.  Sitting  down  in  a  corner 
he  began  to  muse.  Although  he  had  been  in  town 
some  time,  he  had  not  seen  Gerald.  He  had  called  at 
the  latter's  lodgings  and  found  him  not  at  home,  while 
when  he  went  to  the  bank  he  was  told  that  Gerald  had 
been  sent  to  manage  a  small  branch  office.  Thorn 
thought  it  strange  that  Osborn  had  said  nothing  about 
this  and  wondered  whether  he  knew.  Gerald  was 
extravagant  and  much  less  frank  than  he  looked;  he 
might  have  had  an  object  for  hiding  his  promotion. 
Thorn  understood  that  Osborn  made  him  some  allow- 
ance, but  it  was  hard  to  see  how  the  young  man  was 
able  to  belong  to  his  rather  expensive  club. 

After  a  time,  Gerald  came  in  and  glanced  at  two  or 
three  men  who  stood  about.  At  first.  Thorn  imagined 
he  was  looking  for  him,  but  saw  he  was  not.  Gerald 
went  into  the  telephone  box  close  by  and  shut  the  door 
with  a  jerky  movement.  It  jarred  and  then  swung 
back  a  few  inches  as  if  the  shock  had  jolted  the  spring. 
Thorn,  whose  curiosity  was  excited,  listened  and  heard 
the  number  Gerald  asked  for.     Then  he  heard  him  say : 

"  Yes  —  Osborn !  Is  that  Sanderson  ?  Yes  —  I 
said  Ermentrudes.  Any  chance  of  a  recovery  ?  What 
—  none  at  all  ?  Can't  hear  —  oh,  sell  at  once !  Mar- 
gin's gone." 

Next  moment  Gerald  obviously  saw  that  the  door 
was  open,  for  he  banged  it  noisily  and  Thorn  heard 
nothing  more.  He  had,  however,  heard  enough  to  give 
him  food  for  thought  and  waited  until  Gerald  came  out. 
The  young  man  stood  still  with  his  mouth  firmly  set 
and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  wall  as  if  he  saw  nobody. 
His  clothes  were  in  the  latest  fashion,  but  the  look  of 
fastidious  languidness  that  generally  marked  him  had 
gone.  Turning  abruptly,  he  went  up  the  stairs,  and 
Thorn  entered  the  telephone  box  and  opened  the  direc- 
tory. When  he  came  out  he  went  up  to  a  man  he 
knew. 


284         THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  Can  you  tell  me  anything  about  Short  and  Sander- 
son, stockbrokers  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  much,"  said  the  other.  "  They're  outside 
brokers.  I  imagine  they're  trustworthy,  but  it's  bet- 
ter to  do  business  through  a  member  of  the  Exchange. 
You'll  find  it  a  good  rule." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Thorn,  who  went  upstairs  to  the 
smoking-room  and  found  Gerald  sitting  in  front  of  a 
table,  with  a  newspaper  that  dealt  with  financial  matters. 

"  Hallo !  "  said  Thorn.  "  I  have  been  expecting  you 
for  some  days.     I  suppose  you  got  my  message?" 

Gerald  looked  up  and  his  smile  was  strained.  "  I 
did,  but  have  been  much  engaged.  Sit  down  and  join 
me  in  a  drink." 

"What  have  you  ordered?"  Thorn  asked,  and 
shrugged  when  Gerald  told  him. 

"  That  goes  better  after  dinner.  I'd  sooner  have 
something  cool  and  light." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Gerald.  "  I  felt  I  needed  bracing. 
The  fact  is,  I've  had  a  knock  — " 

He  stopped  as  a  waiter  came  up  and  said  nothing 
until  the  man  had  gone.  Then  he  drained  his  glass 
and  turned  to  Thorn. 

"  I'm  in  a  hole.  Can  you  lend  me  two  thousand 
pounds? " 

Thorn  hid  his  surprise.  He  thought  urgent  need 
had  forced  Gerald  to  make  his  blunt  request;  it  was 
not  his  way  to  plunge  at  things  like  that. 

"  You  asked  your  father  for  a  smaller  sum." 

"They  told  you  about  my  letter?  Well,  things 
have  changed  since;  changed  for  the  v/orse." 

"  They  must  have  changed  rather  quickly,"  Thorn 
remarked,  for  his  suspicion  was  excited  and  he  thought 
he  saw  a  light.  Gerald  had  been  embarrassed  when  he 
wrote  to  Osborn,  and  had  not  wanted  the  money  to 
invest  but  to  help  him  to  escape  the  consequences  of 
some  extravagance. 


THORN  MAKES  A  PLAN  285 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  Gerald  rejoined. 
"  Will  you  let  me  have  the  money?  You  can,  if  you 
like." 

"  To  begin  with,  you  had  better  tell  me  why  you 
want  so  large  a  sum." 

Gerald  hesitated  and  his  eyelids  twitched  nervously, 
but  he  pulled  himself  together  and  Thorn  wondered 
how  far  he  would  stick  to  the  truth.  He  knew  Gerald 
and  did  not  trust  him. 

"  Very  well ;  I  bought  some  shares.  There  was  good 
ground  for  expecting  they'd  go  up  — " 

"  They  went  down  ?     When  did  you  buy  ?  " 

"  Your  meaning's  plain,"  said  Gerald  sullenly.  "  If 
you  insist,  it  was  before  I  wrote  home." 

"  I  suspected  something  like  that.  However,  you 
have  the  shares  and  they  may  go  up  again." 

*'  I  haven't  got  the  shares.  I  bought  on  a  margin, 
and  the  margin's  gone." 

*'  Then,  you're  rasher  than  I  thought,"  Thorn  re- 
joined with  a  searching  look.  "  Well,  you  have  lost 
your  money  and  it's  something  of  a  surprise  to  hear 
you  had  so  much.  Anyhow,  it  was  yours,  and  although 
the  loss  is  serious,  I  don't  understand  how  you're  em- 
barrassed." 

"  I  borrowed,"  said  Gerald,  rather  hoarsely.  "  You 
can  wait;  the  other  fellow  won't.  Then,  of  course,  if 
I  renewed  the  margin,  the  shares  might  recover  and 
put  me  straight." 

Thorn  pondered.  Gerald's  statement  was  plausible, 
but  he  doubted  if  he  had  told  him  all. 

"  Two  thousand  pounds  is  a  large  sum,"  he  said. 
"  I  don't  know  yet  if  I  can  lend  it  you." 

Gerald  gave  him  a  steady  look.  His  face  was  hag- 
gard and  the  sweat  ran  down  his  forehead.  It  was 
obvious  that  he  was  desperate. 

"If  you  hope  to  marry  my  sister,  you  had  better 
help  me  out." 


286        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  I  haven't  much  ground  for  thinking  your  sister 
will  agree,"  Thorn  rejoined  with  some  dryness. 
"  Anyhow,  it's  doubtful  if  your  influence  would  go 
far  with  her,  if  that  is  what  you  mean." 

"  It  is  not  what  I  mean,"  Gerald  answered  in  a  hoarse 
voice.  *'  I  have  given  you  a  useful  hint.  You  can 
spare  two  thousand  pounds,  and  if  you  let  me  have 
the  money,  you'll  be  glad  you  did." 

*'  I  must  think  about  it.  You  can  call  me  up  on 
the  telephone  at  noon  to-morrow." 

Gerald  hesitated,  and  then  made  an  abrupt  move- 
ment as  a  man  came  into  the  room.  The  latter  crossed 
the  floor  and  Gerald  got  np. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  and  went  of?. 

Soon  after  Gerald  had  gone,  the  man  Thorn  had 
met  in  the  hall  came  in  and  he  asked :  "  Do  you  know 
anything  about  Ermentrndes,  Norton?  I  suppose 
they're  mining  shares?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  invest,"  the  other  replied. 
"  The  company  has  seldom  paid  a  dividend,  but  not 
long  since  a  rumor  got  about  that  a  new  shaft  had 
bottomed  on  rich  ore."  He  paused  and  shrugged. 
"  Nobody  knows  how  such  tales  are  started,  but  they 
appeal  to  optimistic  outsiders  who  like  to  think  they've 
got  a  secret  tip.  Anyhow,  there  was  some  reckless 
buying  by  people  who  expected  developments  at  the 
shareholders'  meeting.  They  were  disappointed,  and 
are  knocking  prices  down  by  their  anxiety  to  sell  out." 

Thorn  thanked  him  and  began  to  think.  He  won- 
dered where  Gerald  had  managed  to  get  two  thousand 
pounds,  since  he  imagined  that  nobody  would  lend 
him  the  sum.  He  did  not  know  much  about  banking, 
but  it  was  possible  that  Gerald  had  used  his  employers' 
money,  hoping  to  replace  it  before  he  was  found  out. 
Then,  since  two  thousand  pounds,  used  for  a  margin, 
would  cover  a  large  number  of  shares,  it  looked  as  if 
Gerald  had  lost  part  of  the  sum  by  previous  specula- 


THORN  MAKES  A  PLAN  287 

tions.  While  he  pondered,  the  man  whose  entry  had 
seemed  to  disturb  Gerald  came  to  his  table  and  sat 
down  opposite. 

"  You  obviously  know  young  Osborn,"  he  remarked. 

Thorn  said  nothing  for  a  moment  or  two.  Hallam 
was  not  a  public  money-lender,  but  sometimes  negoti- 
ated private  loans  for  extravagant  young  men  about 
tow^n.  One  meets  such  people  now  and  then  at  smart 
London  clubs,  and  Thorn  imagined  the  fellow  could 
throw  some  light  on  Gerald's  difficulties. 

"  We  come  from  the  same  neighborhood,"  he  replied. 

"  His  father  is  a  large  landowner,  I  believe?  " 

"  He  has  some  land,"  said  Thorn,  who  began  to  see 
his  way.  He  had  not  yet  decided  to  help  Gerald,  but 
if  he  did,  his  help  must  be  made  as  valuable  as  possible. 
"  The  rents  are  low  and  the  estate  is  encumbered,"  he 
resumed.  "  On  the  whole,  I  don't  think  you  would 
consider  it  good  security." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  hint.  Osborn  looked  as  if  he 
had  got  a  jar." 

"  I  think  he  had.  He  bought  some  shares  that  have 
gone  down  sharply,  and  since  he's  a  bank-clerk  I  ex- 
pect the  loss  is  a  serious  thing  for  him." 

Hallam  nodded  carelessly.  "  No  doubt !  Do  you 
know  a  man  called  Askew  ?  " 

"  I  know  something  about  him.  He  owns  a  farm 
in  the  dale  and  has  recently  spent  some  money  on 
improvements,  although  it's  doubtful  if  he'll  get  much 
return.  I  can't  tell  you  if  he  has  any  more  or  not,  but 
imagine  he's  not  worth  your  bothering  about.  Be- 
sides, he's  not  the  man  I'd  expect  to  get  into  debt." 

"  Mr.  Askew  has  not  been  trying  to  borrow,"  Hal- 
lam answered  with  a  smile.  "  Well,  I  promised  to 
meet  a  friend  and  mustn't  stop." 

He  went  away  and  Thorn  sat  still,  pondering.  The 
other  men  went  out  by  and  by  and  the  room  was  quiet 
except  for  the  rumble  of  traffic  in  the  street  and  the 


288        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

rattle  of  an  electric  fan.  A  waiter  pulled  down  a  blind 
to  shut  out  a  bright  sunbeam  and  Thorn  found  the 
shade  and  softened  noises  from  outside  helpful  to 
thought. 

Gerald  had  used  money  belonging  to  the  bank  and 
borrowed  from  Hallam  in  order  to  pay  it  back;  al- 
though Thorn  could  not  see  what  had  persuaded  the 
latter  to  lend.  It  was  strange,  certainly,  that  Hallam 
had  inquired  about  Askew,  but  in  the  meantime  he 
could  let  this  go.  Gerald  was  threatened  by  a  danger 
money  could  avert,  and  Thorn  could  help.  If  he  did 
help,  it  would  give  him  a  claim  to  Osborn's  gratitude, 
although  he  could  not  tell  how  far  this  would  influence 
Grace.  The  Osborns  cherished  the  old-fashioned  tra- 
ditions of  their  class,  and  anything  that  touched  one 
touched  all.  Grace,  however,  was  modern  and  rebel- 
lious, and  Thorn  knew  she  did  not  like  him  much.  He 
was  not  afraid  to  risk  his  money,  but  he  must  not 
waste  an  opportunity  he  might  not  get  again,  and  the 
opportunity  could  be  used  in  one  of  two  ways. 

He  could  free  Gerald  from  his  entanglements  and, 
using  no  pressure,  leave  her  parents'  gratitude  to  work 
on  Grace.  This  was  the  proper  line  and  would  enable 
him  to  play  a  generous  part ;  had  he  been  younger,  he 
would  not  have  hesitated,  but  he  saw  a  risk.  He  was 
beginning  to  look  old  and  unless  Grace  married  him 
soon,  must  give  her  up.  The  other  line,  although  not 
attractive,  promised  greater  security.  Before  he 
helped  he  must  state  his  terms  and  force  Osborn  to 
agree.  Grace  could  not  struggle,  because  her  refusal 
would  involve  the  family  in  Gerald's  disgrace.  Thorn 
saw  the  plan  had  drawbacks,  but  Grace  was  young  and, 
if  he  indulged  and  petted  her,  she  would,  no  doubt,  get 
to  hke  him  and  forget  his  hardness.  He  had  heard  of 
marriages  made  like  this  that  turned  out  happily. 

For  a  time  he  sat  with  his  brows  knitted  and  his 
mouth  set.     He  would  have  liked  to  be  generous,  but 


THORN  MAKES  A  PLAN  289 

he  loved  the  girl  and  could  not  force  himself  to  run 
the  risk  of  losing  her.  Neverthless,  he  honestly  tried, 
and  afterwards  remembered  with  strange  distinctness 
the  soft  rattle  of  the  electric  fan  and  the  dull  roll  of 
traffic  that  throbbed  in  the  quiet  room  while  he  fought 
the  losing  fight.  The  sunbeam  the  waiter  had  shut  out 
crept  on  to  another  window  and  shone  on  the  fluted 
pillars  before  he  got  up.  His  face  was  very  hard,  for 
he  had  chosen  his  line  and  knew  he  must  take  it  without 
doubt  or  pity. 

Going  down  to  the  hall,  he  called  up  Gerald's  branch 
bank.  A  clerk  who  was  working  late  replied  that  ]\Ir. 
Osborn  had  gone. 

"  I  know,"  said  Thorn,  giving  his  name.  "  Make  a 
note  to  tell  him  he  need  not  call  on  me  to-morrow.  I 
find  I  am  unable  to  do  what  he  requires." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  clerk.  "  I'll  give  him  the 
message  in  the  morning." 

Thorn  rang  the  bell  and,  leaving  the  box,  asked  for 
a  railway  guide.  There  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by 
stopping  in  London  and  he  looked  up  the  best  train  for 
the  north. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Gerald's  return 

THORN  went  home  and  waited,  confident  that 
Osborn  would  presently  send  for  him.  The 
estate  was  heavily  mortgaged,  Osborn  had  no  rich 
friends,  and  when  the  blow  fell  would  look  to  Thorn 
for  the  aid  nobody  else  could  give.  In  the  meantime, 
Osborn,  enjoying  a  short  relief  from  financial  strain, 
squandered  in  personal  extravagance  part  of  the  sum 
he  had  borrowed,  and  then  set  drainers,  carpenters, 
and  builders  to  work.  He  liked  spending  and  now  tried 
to  persuade  himself  that  the  money  he  was  laying  out 
would  give  him  some  return.  It  ought  to  last  until  he 
had  finished  the  renovations  his  tenants  demanded,  and 
although  difiiculties  might  arise  afterwards,  he  would 
wait  until  they  did.  Indeed,  his  wife  and  daughter 
found  him  better  humored  than  he  had  been  for  long. 

Then,  one  evening  when  the  hay  was  harvested  and 
the  corn  was  ripening,  his  satisfaction  was  rudely  ban- 
ished. Grace  had  gone  to  the  lodge  with  a  message 
and  stopped  for  a  few  minutes  by  the  gate.  The  eve- 
ning was  calm  and  one  side  of  the  placid  tarn  glittered 
in  the  light ;  the  other  was  dark,  and  soft  blue  shadows 
covered  the  fells  behind.  She  heard  the  languid  splash 
of  ripples  on  the  stones  and  the  murmur  of  a  beck  in  a 
distant  ghyll.  A  strange  restful  tranquillity  brooded 
over  the  dale. 

Grace  felt  the  calm  soothing,  for  her  thoughts  were 
not  a  little  disturbed.  She  had  met  Thorn  in  the 
afternoon  and  noted  a  puzzling  change  in  his  manner. 

2go 


GER.\LD'S  RETURN  291 

So  far,  she  had  been  able  to  check  his  cautious  ad- 
vances, but  she  now  remarked  a  new  confidence  that 
seemed  to  indicate  he  had  some  power  in  reserve.  She 
admitted  that  she  might  have  imagined  this,  but  it 
troubled  her. 

Afterwards  she  had  met  Kit  and  the  comfort  the 
meeting  gave  her  had  forced  her  to  think.  Their 
friendship  had  gone  far ;  in  fact,  it  had  reached  a  point 
friendship  could  not  pass.  Kit  was  not  yet  her  lover, 
but  she  thought  he  waited  for  a  sign  that  she  would 
acknowledge  him  when  he  made  his  claim.  She  liked 
Kit;  she  had  not  met  a  man  she  liked  so  much.  This, 
however,  did  not  imply  that  she  was  willing  to  marry 
him.  Although  she  now  and  then  rebelled  against  con- 
ventions,*she  had  inherited  some  of  Osborn's  prejudices, 
and  her  mother  sprang  from  old-fashioned  land-owning 
stock.  Kit  belonged  to  another  class;  the  life  he  led 
was  different.  She  had  been  taught  to  enjoy  culti- 
vated idleness,  broken  by  outdoor  sports  and  social 
amusements ;  but  Kit  was  a  worker,  farming  for  money 
and  resolved  to  make  his  efforts  pay.  His  wife  must 
help  and  Grace  did  not  know  if  this  daunted  her  or  not. 

Moreover,  if  she  married  Kit,  she  must  quarrel  with 
her  parents.  She  knew  what  Osborn  thought  about 
him.  Had  she  been  sure  she  loved  Kit,  the  choice 
would  have  been  easier,  but  although  she  blushed  as 
she  mused,  this  was  too  much  to  own.  Yet  he  loved 
her,  and  after  all  — 

She  let  the  matter  go  and  looked  up,  for  there  were 
steps  in  the  shadowy  road.  Then  a  figure  came  into 
the  fading  light,  and  she  started  and  ran  to  the  gate. 

"  Gerald!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Why  have  you  come 
home?" 

"  Somehow  you  don't  feel  flattered  when  people  ask 
you  why  you  came,"  Gerald  rejoined  with  a  forced 
smile.     "  It  rather  indicates  surprise  than  satisfaction." 


292        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  I  am  surprised,"  Grace  admitted,  trying  to  hide  her 
vagiie  alarm.  "  We  did  not  expect  you.  How  did  you 
get  away  ?  " 

"  I  took  a  week's  leave.     I  haven't  been  very  fit." 

Grace  gave  him  a  sharp  glance  and  thought  he  looked 
ill.  His  face  was  pinched,  his  eyes  were  furtive,  and 
his  mouth  was  slack. 

"  What  has  been  the  matter?  "  she  asked. 

"  Nothing  very  much,"  Gerald  replied.  "  Mental 
strain,  1  expect.  Managing  a  bank  is  a  big  job  and 
I'm  not  used  to  responsibility." 

It  looked  as  if  his  carelessness  cost  him  an  effort 
and  Grace  said  nothing.  When  they  reached  the  house 
Gerald  resumed :  "  You'll  hear  all  about  it  later.  Is 
the  chief  at  home?  " 

Grace  nodded.  They  had  seldom  called  Osborn  fa- 
ther, but  chief  and  head  of  the  clan,  and  she  thought  it 
significant  that  Gerald  used  the  name  he  often  falter- 
ingly  employed  after  boyish  escapades.  She  began  to 
feel  that  there  was  something  wrong. 

"  He's  in  the  library,"'  she  said. 

"  That's  satisfactory,  as  far  as  it  goes,"  Gerald  re- 
marked, climbing  the  steps.  "  The  sooner  I  see  him, 
the  sooner  I'll  get  through  the  thing."  He  paused  and 
gave  Grace  an  anxious  glance.  "  You'll  stand  by  me? 
You  generally  did." 

"  1  suppose  so,"  Grace  agreed.  "  But  I  don't  know 
your  difficulties  and  what  you  want." 

"  You  will  know  soon,"  Gerald  rejoined  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Well,  it's  an  awkward  busi- 
ness ;  I've  got  to  brace  up." 

He  left  her  and  went  to  the  library,  where  Osborn 
sat  at  the  big  oak  table  with  some  letters  and  a  wine 
glass  in  front  of  him.  The  spacious  room  was  mostly 
in  shadow,  but  a  ray  of  fading  light  shone  in  through 
the  tall  west  window.     Gerald  avoided  the  illumination 


GERALD'S  RETURN  293 

as  he  advanced,  and  stopped  in  the  gloom  opposite 
Osborn,  who  straightened  his  body  with  a  jerk  and 
upset  the  glass. 

"Well?"  he  said  harshly.  "Why  have  you  left 
the  bank?" 

"  The  wine  is  running  across  the  table  and  on  to 
your  clothes.     Shall  I  ring?" 

"  No,"  said  Osborn,  pushing  his  chair  back  noisily. 
"  Let  it  run !  Stand  still  or  sit  down.  Tell  me  why 
you  came." 

"  To  begin  with,  I  have  left  the  bank  for  good." 

"  Ah,"  said  Osborn  grimly,  "  I  suspected  something 
like  this !  You  mean  they  turned  you  out?  Well,  you 
are  consistent  in  your  habits.  You  left  school  in  sim- 
ilar circumstances,  you  left  Woolwich,  and  now  — " 

"  I  was  not  turned  out,  sir.  They  gave  me  a  week's 
leave,  but  I  can't  go  back." 

Osborn  frowned.  Things  had  been  going  well  and 
he  had  thought  himself  free  from  trouble  for  a  time, 
but  it  looked  as  if  he  would  get  his  worst  jar.  He 
tried  to  preserve  his  calm  and  said  with  a  touch  of 
weariness: 

"  Tell  me  what  has  happened  and  keep  as  near  the 
truth  as  is  possible  for  you." 

Gerald  told  him,  standing  back  in  the  shadow  and 
not  pausing  to  choose  his  words.  It  was  an  ugly  story 
that  could  not  be  toned  down  and  he  knew  if  he 
stopped  he  could  not  go  on  again.  Although  Osborn 
said  nothing,  his  face  got  red  and  the  veins  on  his 
forehead  swelled,  and  Gerald  found  his  silence  strangely 
daunting.  When  the  latter  stopped,  Osborn  got  up 
and  stood,  rather  shakily,  with  his  hand  clenched. 

"  Get  out  of  my  sight,  you  despicable  thief !  "  he 
cried.  "My  control  is  going.  If  you  stand  and 
fidget  there,  I'll  knock  you  down !  " 

"  There  wouldn't  be  much  use  in  that,  although  I 


294        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

deserve  it,"  Gerald  replied.  "  It's  too  late  for  excuses. 
The  situation's  dangerous.  You  ha\e  got  to  help  me 
out." 

"  I  can't  help,"  said  Osbom  in  a  strained,  hoarse 
voice.  "  Why  didn't  you  leave  the  country  instead  of 
coming  home  ?  " 

Gerald  forced  a  nervous  smile.  "  The  reason  ought 
to  be  obvious,  sir ;  I  might  be  brought  back.  We  must 
get  over  the  need  for  me  to  go.  You  see,  the  bill  must 
be  met.  If  it's  dishonored,  everybody  who  knows  us 
will  have  something  to  talk  about." 

"  I  thought  you  a  fool,"  said  Osborn  bitterly.  "  You 
are  a  fool,  but  you  have  a  vein  of  devilish  cunning. 
You  steal  and  forge ;  and  then  expect  to  shuffle  off  the 
consequences  on  to  your  relatives!  " 

He  pulled  himself  up,  for  Gerald's  coolness  was 
steadying.  "  However,  I  must  understand.  What 
will  happen  when  the  lender  finds  j^ou  cannot  pay  ?  " 

"  The  usual  course  would  be  for  him  to  go  to  the 
endorser,"  Gerald  replied  and  added  with  some  awk- 
wardness :  "  I  mean  the  man  whose  name  I  used. 
His  signature's  a  guarantee  and  makes  him  liable. 
Still,  as  Hallam's  a  tactful  fellow,  it's  possible  he'll 
first  come  to  you." 

"  Do  you  mean  he's  suspicious?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  He  took  off  an  extortionate  dis- 
count for  a  very  short  loan." 

"  How  much  did  he  lend  you  ?  " 

"  The  bill  was  for  two  thousand  pounds." 

Osborn  made  a  helpless  gesture.  "  I  can't  pay. 
The  money  I  borrowed  is  partly  spent  and  the  rest 
must  go  for  wages  and  material.  You  can't  put  wages 
off—" 

He  stopped  and  sat  down  limply.  The  shock  was 
beginning  to  tell.  He  felt  dull  and  had  no  reserve  of 
moral  strength  to  sustain  him  now  his  fury  had  gone. 
Gerald  saw  this  and  knew  that  guidance  must  come 


GERALD'S  RETURN  295 

from  him.     He  waited,  however,  and  Osborn  went  on : 

"  It's  ridiculous  that  we  should  be  ruined  for  two 
thousand  pounds;  but  there  it  is!  If  I  try  to  borrow 
from  my  friends,  I  must  tell  why  I  need  the  money. 
And  I  don't  know  who  would  lend." 

"  Thorn  might,"  Gerald  suggested  meaningly.  "  I 
asked  him  and  he  wouldn't,  but  I  don't  think  his  refusal 
was  final." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Osborn,  with  a  start.  ''  Why  do  you 
think  it  was  not?  " 

"  I  imagine  he  has  another  plan ;  he  means  to  wait 
until  it's  obvious  we  must  have  his  help.  Then  he  can 
ask  what  he  likes." 

For  a  moment,  Osborn's  anger  blazed  up  again.  "  I 
see  where  you  are  leading,  you  contemptible  cur!  You 
expect  your  sister  to  pay  for  you !  " 

"  It  would  be  a  good  marriage,"  said  Gerald,  awk- 
wardly.    "  I  thought  you  wanted  it." 

"  Stop !  "  exclaimed  Osborn,  and  rested  his  elbows 
on  the  table,  with  his  shoulders  bent. 

He  had  wanted  Grace  to  marry  Thorn,  but  his  domi- 
neering temper  did  not  carry  him  as  far  as  Gerald 
thought.  He  had  hoped  that  by  and  by  Grace  would 
consent;  it  was  ridiculous  to  imagine  she  would  long 
refuse  to  see  the  advantages  that  were  plain  to  him, 
but  to  force  her  to  pay  for  her  brother's  fault  was 
another  thing.  Although  Grace  was  rebellious,  he  had 
some  love  for  her.  In  fact,  he  revolted  from  the  plan 
and  felt  he  hated  Thorn  for  the  pressure  he  could  use. 
He  was  nearly  resigned  to  letting  things  go  and  facing 
the  threatened  disaster. 

For  a  minute  or  two,  he  did  not  move  and  Gerald 
got  horribly  cramped  as  he  stood  opposite.  The  room 
was  getting  dark  and  Osborn's  figure  was  indistinct, 
but  his  quietness  hinted  at  a  struggle.  Gerald  began 
to  feel  anxious,  because  he  had  not  expected  his  father 
to  hesitate.     At  length  Osborn  looked  up. 


296        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  You  haven't  told  me  whose  name  you  used." 

"  Askew's,"  said  Gerald,  with  a  tremor.  He  knew 
he  could  use  no  stronger  argument,  but  felt  afraid. 

"  Askew's !  "  shouted  Osborn,  straightening  his  bent 
shoulders  with  a  savage  jerk.  "  This  is  more  than  I 
can  bear.  Was  there  nobody  you  could  rob  but  the 
man  who  has  plotted  against  me  since  he  came  home 
from  school?  "  He  stopped  and  gasped  as  if  his  rage 
were  choking  him  and  it  was  some  moments  before  he 
went  on :  "  You  have  given  the  fellow  power  to  hum- 
ble us  and  drag  our  name  in  the  mud.  Can't  you  imag- 
ine how  he'll  exult?  Our  honor  in  Askew's  hands! 
It's  unthinkable!" 

"If  the  bill  isn't  met,  the  holder  will  apply  to 
Askew,"  Gerald  said  as  coolly  as  he  could. 

Osbom's  muscles  relaxed  and  he  sank  back  into  his 
limp  pose.  His  hand  shook  as  he  wiped  his  wet  fore- 
head. 

"  You  have  said  enough.  Leave  me  alone.  I  must 
try  to  think." 

Gerald  went  out  and  drew  a  deep  breath  when  he 
reached  the  landing.  He  felt  shaky  and  ashamed,  but 
knew  he  had  won.  The  shutting  of  the  door  gave 
Osborn  some  relief.  The  anger  and  disgust  Gerald 
excited  had  confused  his  brain,  but  now  the  lad  had 
gone  he  saw  no  light.  There  was  but  one  way  of 
escape,  and  this  a  way  it  was  almost  unthinkable  that 
he  should  take.  The  strange  thing  was  he  should  hate 
it  so  much,  for  he  had  never  indulged  his  children  or 
thought  about  their  happiness.  Yet  he  shrank  from 
forcing  his  daughter  to  marry  Thorn,  whom  he  ap- 
proved while  she  did  not. 

He  might,  perhaps,  for  the  girl's  sake,  have  sacri- 
ficed his  pride;  but  there  was  an  obstacle  before  which 
his  courage  melted.  If  Thorn  did  not  help.  Askew 
would  know  his  disgrace  and  Osborn  did  not  expect 
him  to  be  merciful.     His  rancor  against  Askew  had 


GERALD'S  RETURN  297 

by  degrees  become  a  blind,  illogical  hate  that  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  see  anything  Kit  did  in  its  proper 
light.  Feeling  as  he  did,  he  imagined  Kit  would  re- 
joice in  the  opportunity  for  humbling  him. 

All  the  same,  knowing  the  fight  was  hopeless,  he 
struggled  against  the  conviction  that  he  must  beg  help 
from  Thorn.  In  many  ways,  he  liked  Alan,  but  he  was 
hard  and  Osborn  dreaded  his  firmness  now.  Yet  he 
could  help  and  there  was  nobody  else.  It  got  dark, 
but  Osborn  did  not  move.  A  faint  breeze  came  up 
and  moaned  about  the  house,  and  presently  a  moon- 
beam stole  into  the  room.  Osborn  sat  still,  with  his 
head  bent  and  his  arms  spread  out  across  the  table. 
Sometimes  he  burned  with  anger  against  Gerald  and 
sometimes  he  scarcely  felt  anything  at  all. 

At  length,  he  got  up,  and  with  an  effort  went  up- 
stairs. Half  an  hour  later,  a  heavy  sleep  that  came 
as  a  reaction  after  the  shock  closed  his  eyes  and  ban- 
ished his  troubles  for  a  time. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
grace's  confidence 

ON  the  day  after  Gerald's  return  Osborn  shut  him- 
self up  in  his  library.  If  he  could  raise  two 
thousand  pounds,  it  would  save  him  from  agreeing  to 
the  demand  Thorn  would,  no  doubt,  make,  and  al- 
though he  really  knew  the  thing  was  impossible,  he 
sought  desperately  for  a  way  of  escape.  He  was  care- 
less about  money,  and,  for  the  most  part,  left  his  busi- 
ness to  his  agent,  but  he  wanted  to  find  out  how  he 
stood  before  he  went  to  Hayes.  There  was  no  obvious 
reason  for  his  doing  so,  but  he  had  begun  to  suspect 
that  Hayes  was  not  as  devoted  to  his  interests  as  he 
had  thought.  His  wife  and  Grace  distrusted  the  fel- 
low, and  although  they  knew  nothing  about  business, 
Osborn  admitted  that  the  advice  they  had  sometimes 
given  him  had  been  sound. 

The  involved  calculations  he  made  gave  him  fresh 
ground  for  disturbance.  It  was  plain  that  he  could 
borrow  no  more  money  and  the  sum  he  had  received 
for  the  last  mortgage  had  nearly  gone.  He  might  per- 
haps get  together  three  or  four  hundred  pounds,  at  the 
risk  of  letting  builders  and  drainers  go  unpaid,  but  this 
was  not  enough.  After  a  time,  he  put  away  his  books 
in  a  fit  of  hopeless  anger  and  drove  across  to  see  Hayes 
at  the  market  town. 

The  interview  was  short  and  disappointing.  Osborn 
could  not  tell  Hayes  why  he  needed  money  and  found 
him  unusually  firm.  He  proved  that  the  estate  was 
heavily  overburdened,  fresh  loans  were  impossible,  and 
stern  economy  must  be  used  if  it  was  to  be  saved  from 
bankruptcy.     To  some  extent,  Osborn  had  expected 


GRACE'S  CONFIDENCE  299 

this,  but  had  cherished  a  faint  hope  that  Hayes  might 
lend  him  enough  to  satisfy  Gerald's  creditor.  He  could 
not  force  himself  to  ask  for  a  loan  outright,  and  Hayes 
had  been  strangely  dull  about  his  cautious  hints.  Os- 
born  believed  the  fellow  could  have  helped  him,  but  as 
he  had  shown  no  wish  to  do  so  there  was  nothing  to  be 
said.  He  drove  home  in  a  downcast  mood  and  seni 
for  Gerald. 

"  I  can't  get  the  money,"  he  said.  "  You  know  the 
man  you  dealt  with.  Is  there  any  hope  of  his  renew- 
ing the  bill?" 

"  I'm  afraid  there  is  none,  sir,"  Gerald  replied. 

"  When  he  made  the  loan  he  knew  you  were  a  bank- 
clerk  and  had  no  money." 

"  I  expect  he  did  know,  but  thought  you  had  some." 

Osborn  sighed.  His  anger  had  gone  and  a  dull, 
hopeless  dejection  had  taken  its  place.  He  felt  as  if 
he  and  Gerald  were  accomplices  in  a  plot  against 
Grace,  and  did  not  resent  the  lad's  insinuation  that 
they  stood  together.  The  Osborns  did  stand  together, 
and  he  hoped  Grace  would  see  her  duty. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  the  payment  is  not  due  just  yet. 
I'll  wait  a  little  and  then  write  to  the  fellow." 

It  was  a  relief  to  put  the  thing  off.  but  he  found  no 
comfort  as  the  days  went  by,  and  although  he  shrank 
from  taking  Mrs.  Osborn  into  his  confidence,  his  moody 
humor  gave  her  a  hint.  Besides,  he  was  not  clever  at 
keeping  a  secret  and  now  and  then  made  illuminating 
remarks.  Mrs.  Osborn,  although  reserved,  was  shrewd 
and  she  and  Grace,  without  consulting  each  other,  spec- 
ulated about  the  trouble  that  obviously  threatened  the 
house.  By  degrees,  their  conjectures  got  near  the 
truth  and  at  length  Mrs.  Osborn  nerved  herself  to  ask 
her  husband  a  few  blunt  questions.  He  had  not  meant 
to  tell  her  all  until  he  was  forced,  but  was  taken  off  his 
guard  and  told  her  much.  Afterwards  she  sent  for 
Grace. 


300        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

When  Grace  heard  the  story  her  face  got  very  white 
and  she  looked  at  her  mother  with  fear  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  suspected  something,  but  this  is  worse  than  I 
thought,"  she  said  in  a  low  strained  voice.  "  But  Alan 
is  an  old  friend;  it  is  not  very  much  for  him  to  do 
and  perhaps  he  will  be  generous." 

Mrs.  Osborn  was  sitting  rather  limply  on  the  stone 
bench  on  the  terrace,  but  she  roused  herself. 

"  He  is  hard  and  I  think  will  understand  what  his 
help  is  worth.  He  knows  there  is  nobody  else.  Be- 
sides, if  we  accept  this  favor,  we  cannot  refuse — " 

"  Oh,"  said  Grace,  "  it's  unbearable!  I  never  liked 
Alan;  I  feel  I  hate  him  now."  She  paused  and  gave 
Mrs.  Osborn  an  appealing  glance.  "  But  you  cannot 
think  I  ought  to  agree,  mother?  There  must  be  an- 
other way!  " 

Mrs.  Osborn  shook  her  head.  "  I  cannot  see  an- 
other way,  and  many  girls  in  our  class  have  married 
men  they  did  not  like,  though  I  had  hoped  for  a  better 
lot  for  you.  With  us,  women  do  not  count ;  the  inter- 
ests of  the  family  come  first." 

"  That  means  the  men's  interests,"  Grace  broke  out. 
"  Father  has  been  reckless  all  his  life  and  now  Gerald 
has  dragged  our  name  in  the  mud.  He  is  to  be  saved 
from  the  consequences  and  I  must  pay !  " 

"  It  is  unjust,"  Mrs.  Osborn  agreed.  "  So  far  as 
that  goes,  there  is  no  more  to  be  said.  But  when  one 
thinks  of  the  disgrace  —  Gerald  hiding  in  America,  or 
perhaps  in  prison !  " 

Her  voice  broke.  She  was  silent  for  a  few  moments 
and  then  resumed  :  "  Your  father's  is  the  conventional 
point  of  view  that  I  was  taught  to  accept  but  which  I 
begin  to  doubt.  I  must  choose  between  my  daughter 
and  my  son;  the  son  who  carries  on  the  house.  If 
Gerald  escapes,  his  punishment  falls  on  you.  The 
choice  is  almost  too  hard  for  flesh  and  blood.'' 


GRACE'S  CONFIDENCE  301 

"  I  know,"  said  Grace,  with  quick  sympathy.  "  It 
is  horrible!  " 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Osborn,  "  the  line  I  ought  to  take 
is  plain  —  Tarnside  will  be  Gerald's ;  our  honor  must 
be  saved.  But  I  do  not  know.  If  you  shrink  from 
Alan  — " 

"If  he  insists,  I  shall  hate  him  always.  Yet,  it 
looks  as  if  there  was  no  use  in  rebelling.  I  feel  as  if 
I  had  been  caught  in  a  snare  that  tightens  when  I  try 
to  break  loose.  I  understand  why  a  rabbit  screams 
and  struggles  until  it  chokes  when  it  feels  the  wire. 
It's  like  that  with  me." 

Mrs.  Osborn  bent  her  head.  "  My  dear !  My 
dear !  "  Then  she  looked  up  irresolutely  with  tears  in 
her  eyes.  ''  I  cannot  see  my  duty  as  I  thought.  The 
convention  is  that  my  son  should  come  first,  but  you 
are  nearer  to  me  than  Gerald  has  been  for  long.  I  feel 
numb  and  dull ;  I  cannot  think.  Perhaps  to-morrow  I 
may  see  — " 

Grace  got  up  and  kissed  her.  "  Then,  we  will  wait. 
If  no  help  comes,  I  suppose  I  must  submit." 

She  went  away  with  a  languid  step  and  ]\Irs.  Osborn, 
sinking  back  in  a  corner  of  the  bench,  looked  across  the 
lawn  with  vacant  eyes.  In  a  sense,  she  had  shirked 
her  duty  and  failed  her  husband,  but  she  had  long  given 
way  to  him  and  was  now  beginning  to  rebel. 

Grace  afterwards  looked  back  with  horror  on  the 
disturbed  evening  and  sleepless  night,  and  the  morning 
brought  her  no  relief.  She  could  not  resign  herself  to 
the  sacrifice  she  thought  she  would  be  forced  to  make, 
and  her  mother  told  her  that  Osborn  had  sent  a  note  to 
Thorn  and  a  man  from  London  would  arrive  in  the 
evening.  It  was  plain  that  Alan  must  be  persuaded 
to  help  Gerald  before  the  other  came. 

In  the  afternoon  she  walked  up  the  dale,  without  an 
object,  because  it  was  impossible  to  stop  in  the  house. 


302        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

After  a  time  she  heard  a  dog  bark  and,  stopping  by  an 
open  gate,  saw  Kit  swinging  a  scythe  where  an  old 
thorn  hedge  threw  its  shadow  on  a  field  of  corn.  He 
was  cutting  a  path  for  the  binder  and  for  a  minute  or 
two  she  stood  and  watched. 

Kit  had  taken  off  his  jacket  and  his  thin  blue  shirt 
harmonized  with  the  warm  yellow  of  the  corn  and  the 
color  of  his  sunburnt  skin.  The  thin  material  showed 
the  fine  modeling  of  his  figure  as  his  body  followed 
the  sweep  of  the  gleaming  scythe.  The  forward  stoop 
and  recovery  were  marked  by  a  rhythmic  grace,  and 
the  crackle  of  the  oat-stalks  hinted  at  his  strength. 
His  face  was  calm  and  Grace  saw  his  mind  dwelt  upon 
his  work.  He  looked  honest,  clean,  and  virile,  but  she 
turned  her  head  and  struggled  with  a  poignant  sense  of 
loss.  She  knew  now  what  it  would  cost  her  to  let 
him  go. 

Then  his  dog  ran  up  and  Kit,  putting  down  his 
scythe,  came  to  the  gate.  He  gave  her  a  searching 
glance,  but  she  was  calm  again  and  began  to  talk  about 
the  harvest.  Fie  did  not  seem  to  listen,  and  when  she 
stopped  said  abruptly :  "  You  are  standing  in  the  sun. 
Come  into  the  shade;  I'll  make  you  a  seat." 

She  went  with  him,  knowing  this  was  imprudent  but 
unable  to  resist,  and  he  threw  an  oat-stook  against  the 
bank  and  covered  it  with  his  coat.  Grace  sat  down 
and  he  studied  her  thoughtfully. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what's  the  matter,"  he  said. 

*'  How  do  you  know  I  have  anything  to  tell  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it's  sympathy,  instinct,  or  something  like 
that.  Anyhow,  I  do  know,  and  you  may  feel  better 
when  you  have  told  me.  It's  now  and  then  a  relief  to 
talk  about  one's  troubles." 

Grace  was  silent.  Her  heart  beat  fast  and  she  longed 
for  his  sympathy,  and  his  nearness  gave  her  a  feeling 
of  support;  but  she  could  not  tell  him  all  her  trouble. 
He  waited  with  a  patience  that  somehow  indicated 


GRACE'S  CONFIDENCE  303 

understanding,  and  she  looked  about.  The  tall  oats 
rippled  before  the  wind  and  soft  shadows  trailed  across 
the  hillside.  When  the  white  clouds  passed,  the  dale 
was  filled  with  light  that  jarred  her  hopelessness. 

"  As  you  haven't  begun  yet,  I'll  make  a  guess,'*  said 
Kit.  "  Things  have  been  going  wrong  at  Tarnside 
since  Gerald  came  home?  Well,  if  you  can  give  me  a 
few  particulars,  it's  possible  I  can  help." 

His  steady  glance  was  comforting  and  Grace's  re- 
serve gave  way.  It  was  humiliating,  and  in  a  sense 
disloyal,  to  talk  about  Gerald,  but  her  pride  had  gone 
and  she  was  suddenly  inspired  by  a  strange  confidence. 
Perhaps  Kit  could  help;  one  could  trust  him  and  he 
was  not  the  man  to  be  daunted  by  obstacles. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  vaguely ;  "  it's  Gerald  — " 

**  So  I  thought,"  Kit  remarked.  "  Very  well.  You 
had  better  tell  me  all  you  know,  or,  anyhow,  all  you 
can." 

She  gave  him  a  quick  glance  to  see  what  he  meant, 
but  his  brown  face  was  inscrutable,  and  witli  an  effort, 
talking  fast  in  order  to  finish  before  her  courage  failed, 
she  narrated  what  she  had  heard.  She  could  not,  of 
course,  tell  him  all,  and,  indeed,  Mrs.  Osborn's  story 
left  much  to  be  explained. 

"  Ah,"  said  Kit,  "  I  begin  to  see  a  light,  although  the 
thing's  not  quite  plain  yet.  Anyhow,  your  father  needs 
money  and  must  ask  his  friends."  He  paused  and  re- 
sumed in  a  voice  he  tried  to  make  careless :  "  Has  he 
asked  Thorn?  " 

Grace  hesitated  and  turned  her  head  as  she  felt  the 
blood  creep  into  her  face.  "  Yes ;  you  see,  there  is  no- 
body else." 

"  I'm  not  sure  about  that.  However,  it  looks  as  if 
Thorn  had  not  sent  his  answer  yet  and  there's  not 
much  time  to  lose.  You  expect  the  man  from  London 
to-night?" 

Grace  said  they  did  and  studied  Kit  while  he  pon- 


304        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

dered.  His  pre-occupied  look  indicated  that  he  was 
working  out  some  plan  and  did  not  understand  how 
bold  she  had  been.  He  did  not  seem  at  all  surprised 
that  she  had  come  to  him.  She  had  broken  the  family 
traditions  by  giving  him  her  confidence,  but  she  felt 
happier. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  Gerald,"  he  said.  "  It's  important, 
and  I'll  be  at  Ashness  at  four  o'clock.  If  he  will  not 
come,  you  must  let  me  know." 

*'  I'll  send  him  if  I  can,"  said  Grace,  who  got  up. 
Then  she  hesitated  and  looked  away  across  the  field. 
"  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  told  you,  but  I  felt  I 
must,  and  I'm  glad  I  did." 

Kit  smiled  and  after  walking  to  the  gate  with  her 
went  on  with  his  mowing.  Her  story  left  out  much  he 
wanted  to  know,  but  he  thought  he  saw  where  it  led 
and  would  get  the  rest  from  Gerald.  This  might  be 
difficult,  but  he  meant  to  insist. 

When  Grace  reached  Tarnside  she  met  Gerald  on 
the  lawn  and  took  him  to  the  bench  under  the  copper- 
beech. 

"  Mr.  Askew  wants  you  to  go  to  Ashness  at  four 
o'clock,"  she  said. 

"  Askew  wants  me !  "  Gerald  exclaimed,  with  a  start, 
and  Grace  thought  he  looked  afraid.     "  Why?  " 

*'  I  don't  know.     He  said  it  was  important." 

Gerald  looked  hard  at  her,  "  Well,  I  suppose  it  is 
important.     But  how  does  he  know  about  the  thing?  " 

"  I  told  him."  Grace  answered  with  forced  quietness. 

"  You  told  him?  "  Gerald  gasped,  and  then  laughed 
harshly.  "  I  knew  you  had  pluck,  but  didn't  expect 
this !  You  don't  seem  to  realize  what  an  extravagant 
thing  you've  done." 

"  I  don't;  it  doesn't  matter.     Will  you  go?  " 

Gerald  pondered  for  a  few  moments  and  then  looked 
up.  "  You  owe  me  nothing,  Grace.  In  fact,  you  and 
mother  have  often  had  to  pay  for  my  folly :  but  I  want 


GRACE'S  CONFIDENCE  305 

you  to  be  honest  now.  I  imagine  you  understand  what 
Alan  expects  if  he  helps  me  out?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Grace  in  a  strange  hard  voice. 

"  It  would  be  a  good  marriage;  the  kind  of  marriage 
you  ought  to  make.  Alan's  rich  and  can  give  you  the 
things  you  like  and  ought  to  have.  But  with  all  that, 
I  imagine  you'd  sooner  let  it  go  ?  " 

"  I  hate  it,"  Grace  said  quietly.  "  I  don't  like  Alan ; 
I  never  shall  like  him." 

"  He  has  some  drawbacks,"  Gerald  remarked,  and 
was  silent.  He  had  not  often  a  generous  impulse,  but 
he  was  moved  by  his  sister's  distress  and  thought  he 
saw  a  plan.  The  plan  was  extravagant,  and  risky  for 
him. 

"  I  wonder  whether  you'd  sooner  marry  Askew  ?  " 
he  resumed. 

Grace  moved  abruptly  and  her  face  got  red.  She 
had  not  expected  the  question  and  was  highly  strung. 
Gerald  saw  her  embarrassment  and  went  on : 

*'  Of  course,  he's  an  outsider,  from  our  point  of 
view,  but  he's  a  good  sort.  In  fact,  he's  much  better 
than  Alan.  Besides,  there's  some  ground  for  believing 
you  are  pretty  good  friends." 

"  Stop !  "  Grace  exclaimed.  "  This  has  nothing  to 
do  with  you.  It's  unthinkable  that  you  should  med- 
dle!" 

Gerald  smiled.  "  I'm  not  going  to  give  Askew  a 
hint,  if  that  is  what  you  mean.  I  wanted  to  find  out 
if  you'd  shrink  from  him  as  you  shrink  from  Alan, 
and  I  think  I  know." 

"  You  don't  know,"  Grace  declared,  and  then  stopped 
and  blushed  as  she  met  his  steady  look.  After  all, 
there  was  no  use  in  pretending;  Gerald  would  not  be 
deceived.  Still,  when  he  quietly  got  up  she  asked  with 
alarm  :     "  What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  Ashness,"  Gerald  replied.  "  I've 
made  things  hard  for  you  and  mother,  but  I  Vv^on't 


3o6        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

bring  you  fresh  embarrassment  now.  In  fact,  I  think 
you  can  trust  me,  and,  indeed,  it's  obvious  that  you 
must."  He  turned  and  looked  back  with  a  smile.  "  If 
Askew's  the  man  I  think,  the  chief  will  shortly  get  a 
jar." 

Grace  wanted  to  call  him  back,  but  somehow  could 
not.  and  sat  still  while  he  crossed  the  lawn.  So  long 
as  she  could  see  him,  he  moved  carelessly,  but  when  he 
went  down  the  drive  behind  a  clipped  hedge  his  step 
got  slow  and  his  face  was  hard.  The  thing  he  meant 
to  do  would  need  some  pluck,  and  might  be  dangerous 
if  he  had  not  judged  Askew  right. 

In  the  meantime,  Kit  went  back  to  Ashness  and 
smoked  a  cigarette  while  he  pondered  what  Grace  had 
told  him.  He  had  seen  that  she  did  not  altogether 
know  her  brother's  offense,  but  since  money  was 
needed,  Kit  could  guess ;  Gerald  had  been  betting  or 
speculating  and  had  used  money  that  was  not  his. 
Undoubtedly,  Kit  did  not  think  he  had  robbed  his  em- 
ployers, because,  if  he  had  done  so.  he  would  not  have 
stayed  at  Tarnside.  He  had,  however,  robbed  some- 
body, and  as  Kit  remembered  his  skill  with  the  pen  he 
saw  a  light.  Gerald  had  used  somebody  else's  name, 
on  the  back  of  a  bill  or  promissory  note,  and  now  the 
bill  must  be  met. 

Presently  he  heard  steps  in  the  passage  and  looking 
up  as  Gerald  came  in  indicated  a  chair.  Gerald  sat 
down  and  for  a  few  moments  Kit  studied  him  quietly. 
It  was  obvious  that  he  felt  some  strain,  but  his  look 
was  resolute  and  Kit  owned  that  he  had  more  pluck 
than  he  had  thought.  The  room  was  very  quiet  and 
the  shadow  of  a  big  ash  tree  fell  across  the  open  win- 
dow. The  musical  tinkle  of  a  binder  working  among 
the  corn  came  faintly  down  the  dale. 

"  Well?  "  said  Gerald,  conscious  of  a  sense  of  relief 
in  Askew's  presence.     "  You  sent  for  me." 

"I  did.     Your  sister  told  me  something;   all  she 


GRACE'S  CONFIDENCE  307 

knew,  perhaps,  but  not  enough.  Anyhow,  you  are  in 
tiouble  about  money  and  I  promised  to  help." 

"  For  my  sake?  "  Gerald  asked. 

Kit  frowned.  "  Not  altogether,  but  we'll  let  that  go. 
If  I  am  to  be  of  use,  you  had  better  state  the  trouble 
plainly.     I  must  know  how  things  are." 

"  I  suppose  if  you  find  the  money  I  need,  it  will  give 
you  a  claim  on  us,"  Gerald  remarked  meaningly. 

"Yes,"  said  Kit,  with  a  steady  look.  ''But  that 
won't  make  any  difference.  I  don't  mean  to  urge  my 
claim.     I  expect  this  clears  the  ground?  " 

"It  does;  it's  some  relief.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
nobody  can  help  quite  as  much  as  you." 

"Ah,"  said  Kit,  "I  think  I  see!  You  used  my 
name.  What  was  the  sum  for  which  you  made  me 
responsible?  " 

Gerald  told  him  and  waited  anxiously  when  Kit 
knitted  his  brows.  The  sum  was  not  so  large  as  the 
latter  had  thought  and  Osborn's  inability  to  raise  it 
indicated  that  he  was  seriously  embarrassed. 

"  I  understand  your  father  applied  to  Thorn,"  said 
Kit.     "  Does  he  know  you  have  come  to  me?  " 

"  He  does  not ;  nobody  knows  but  Grace.  I'd  bet- 
ter state  that  I  dixi  come  because  I  thought  you'd  take 
a  generous  line,  and  I'm  doubtful  about  Thorn." 

Kit  made  a  sign  of  understanding.  "  Thorn  hasn't 
arrived  yet  ?  "  he  said. 

"  He  sent  a  note  he'd  come  across,  but  when  I  left 
he  hadn't  arrived.  My  notion  is  he's  waiting  until  the 
last  moment,  with  the  object  of  making  us  realize  we 
must  have  his  help." 

"  It's  possible,"  said  Kit,  who  approved  Gerald's 
handling  of  the  matter.  The  lad  was  a  wastrel,  but 
he  had  run  some  risk  in  order  to  save  his  sister  from 
being  forced  to  pay  for  his  fault.  "  We  won't  bother 
about  Thorn's  object,"  he  resumed.  "  Tell  me  about 
your  difficulties.     I  don't  want  a  half  confidence." 


3o8        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Gerald  hesitated  and  then  began  his  tale.  He  had 
used  the  bank's  money  to  speculate  with  and  had 
lost.  Plunging  again,  in  the  hope  of  getting  straight, 
he  had  got  alarmed  when  the  margin  shrank,  and  had 
gone  to  Hallam,  the  money-lender.  The  latter  had  in- 
sisted on  a  guarantee  for  the  bill  and  Gerald  had  used 
Kit's  name.  He  replaced  the  bank's  money  and  had 
hoped  the  shares  would  go  up  before  the  bill  fell  due, 
but  they  had  not. 

"  Well,''  said  Kit  quietly,  "  I  expected  something 
like  this,  and  when  the  fellow  brings  the  bill  to  your 
father  it  must  be  met."  He  stopped  and  picking  up 
a  newspaper  studied  the  steamship  advertisements. 
Then  he  turned  to  Gcald. 

"  There's  another  thing.  You  can't  get  a  post  in 
England,  and  for  your  mother's  and  sister's  sakes,  had 
better  leave  the  country.  A  fast  New  York  boat  sails 
from  Liverpool  to-morrow.  You  must  get  off  by  to- 
night's train." 

Gerald  looked  at  him  with  surprise.  "  But  I'm  not 
going  to  New  York.  I've  no  money  and  don't  know 
what  to  do  when  I  get  there." 

"  I'll  fix  that."  Kit  said  dryly.  "  You  are  going, 
anyhow.  If  you  deliver  the  letter  I'll  give  you  to  some 
people  in  Mobile,  they'll  find  you  a  job.  The  rest  will 
depend  upon  yourself." 

For  a  few  moments  Gerald  hesitated,  and  then  got 
up.  "  Very  well !  Perhaps  it's  the  best  chance  I'll  get, 
and  I'll  take  it.     But  I  must  go  back  and  pack.'' 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Kit.  "  There's  not  much  time. 
I  must  see  the  bank  manager  at  his  house  first  of  all, 
and  start  soon.  You'll  come  with  me  to  the  town. 
Sit  down  and  write  to  your  mother;  I'll  see  she  gets 
the  note." 

Gerald  did  as  he  was  told  and  not  long  afterwards 
Kit  and  he  drove  out  of  the  Ashness  lonning  and  took 
the  road  to  the  town. 


CHAPTER  IX 

KIT   GOES    TO   THE    RESCUE 

AS  the  sun  got  lower  an  apathetic  gloom  began  to 
replace  the  anxiety  that  had  kept  the  Osborns 
highly  strung.  Mrs.  Osborn  went  dejectedly  about  the 
house,  sometimes  moving  an  ornament  and  putting 
away  a  book,  for  her  brain  was  dull  and  she  felt  inca- 
pable of  the  effort  to  rouse  herself  for  her  daughter's 
sake.  Thorn  had  not  arrived  and  if  he  did  not  come 
soon  he  would  be  too  late.  On  the  whole,  this  was 
some  relief,  although  it  meant  that  there  was  no  escape 
from  the  disaster  that  threatened  her  home. 

Torn  by  conflicting  emotions,  she  had  since  morning 
struggled  against  the  binding  force  of  her  traditions. 
In  a  sense,  it  was  Grace's  duty  to  save  the  family 
honor,  but  the  duty  would  cost  the  girl  too  much.  Yet, 
if  Grace  failed  them,  Gerald  must  suffer,  and  she 
doubted  if  her  husband  could  bear  the  shame  that  must 
fall  on  all.  Now,  however,  she  was  conscious  of  a 
numbing  resignation  that  blunted  feeling  and  dulled 
her  brain. 

In  the  meantime,  Grace  stood  at  the  lodge  gate, 
watching  the  road  to  Ashness  while  the  shadows  crept 
across  the  dale.  Gerald  had  not  come  back  and  she 
had  not  told  her  mother  where  he  had  gone.  The 
delay  was  worrying,  particularly  since  Kit  had  sent  no 
message.  He  had  said  he  could  help  and  one  could 
trust  him,  but  he  did  not  come  and  the  confidence  she 
had  felt  was  vanishing.  If  it  was  not  well  placed, 
there  was  no  escape  for  her,  and  she  shrank  with  hor- 
ror from  meeting  Thorn's  demand. 

309 


310        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

The  shadows  got  longer,  but  nothing  moved  on  the 
road  that  ran  Hke  a  white  riband  across  the  fields  until 
it  vanished  among  the  trees  at  Ashness.  Presently, 
however,  she  heard  the  throb  of  a  car  coming  up  the 
valley  and  a  cloud  of  dust  rolled  up  behind  a  hedge. 
It  was  Thorn's  car;  she  knew  its  hum  and  as  she 
watched  the  dust  get  nearer  her  face  went  white. 
Then,  as  the  hum  became  loud  and  menacing,  she 
clenched  her  hand  and  ran  in  nervous  panic  up  the 
drive.  She  was  breathless  when  she  reached  the  house, 
but  pulled  herself  together  and  went  to  a  quiet  room 
where  she  would  be  alone. 

Osborn,  sitting  in  the  library,  heard  the  car,  and  got 
up  with  a  sense  of  relief  and  shrinking.  He  had  been 
afraid  that  Thorn  would  fail  him,  and  now  he  almost 
wished  that  the  fellow  had  not  come.  He  was  not  in 
the  mood  to  be  logical,  and  although  it  was  obvious 
that  Thorn  alone  could  save  him  from  disaster,  know- 
ing what  Grace  must  pay  hurt  him  more  than  he  had 
thought.  Yet  she  must  pay;  he  could  find  no  other 
plan.  Now  he  was  acquiescent  but  not  resigned,  and 
his  hopelessness  gave  him  calm. 

Thorn's  face  was  hot  when  he  came  in,  and  he 
glanced  at  Osborn  with  an  effort  for  carelessness  when 
the  latter  indicated  a  chair.  Osborn  looked  old  and 
broken,  but  he  had  a  touch  of  dignity  that  was  new. 

"  I'm  sorry  if  I'm  late,''  Thorn  remarked.  "  I  had 
to  go  to  Swinset  and  had  trouble  with  the  car." 

Osborn  wondered  dully  whether  this  was  the  real 
ground  for  his  delay,  but  he  said,  "  Oh,  well,  it  does 
not  matter  now  you  have  arrived.  I  gave  you  a  hint 
about  my  object  in  sending  for  you,  but  you  don't 
know  all  yet." 

"  I  imagine  I  know  enough.  Gerald's  in  trouble ; 
he  or  you  must  meet  the  bill  Hallam  will  bring.  You 
see.  the  fellow  belongs  to  my  club  and  I  had  a  talk  with 
him  when  I  was  in  town.'' 


KIT  GOES  TO  THE  RESCUE        311 

"So  you  knew  what  threatened  us?"  Osborn  re- 
marked, rather  sharply.  "If  so,  it's  curious  you 
waited  until  I  sent  for  you." 

Thorn  hesitated.  He  had  meant  to  be  tactful,  but 
it  looked  as  if  he  had  been  rash.  Osborn's  suspicions 
were  obviously  excited. 

"  The  matter  is  delicate,  and  I  knew  you  would  send 
for  me  if  you  thought  I  could  be  of  use." 

"  You  can  be  of  use.  Unless  I  take  up  the  fellow's 
bill,  Gerald  will  go  to  jail." 

Thorn  made  a  sign  of  sympathy.  He  was  surprised 
by  Osborn's  bluntness,  which  implied  that  the  latter 
was  desperate.  *'  That  must  be  prevented.  I'll  give 
you  a  cheque." 

He  took  out  his  cheque  book,  and  then  stopped,  and 
Osborn  asked :  '*  Is  this  a  free  loan,  Alan  ?  I  mean, 
is  it  made  without  conditions  ?  " 

"  A  gift,  if  you  like.  Anyhow,  I  won't  bother  you 
about  repayment.  We  can't  talk  about  conditions;  but 
I  have  something  to  ask." 

"  Grace?  "  said  Osborn,  rather  hoarsely. 

"  Yes,"  said  Thorn,  with  a  hint  of  embarrassment. 
"  I  want  Grace.  It's  an  awkward  situation.  I  don't 
want  to  urge  that  I  deserve  my  reward,  but  I've  waited 
a  long  time  and  thought  you  approved." 

"  I  did  approve.  I  hoped  she'd  marry  you,  but  I 
imagined  she  could  be  persuaded  and  would  do  so  will- 
ingly.    However,  it  looks  as  if  I  was  mistaken." 

Thorn  leaned  forward,  fixing  his  eyes  on  Osborn. 

"  Grace  is  young,  and  perhaps  I  don't  make  a  strong 
appeal  to  her  romantic  feelings,  but  I  belong  to  her 
rank  and  her  views  and  tastes  are  mine.  That  is  much. 
Also,  I  can  indulge  and  give  her  all  she  likes ;  the  refine- 
ments and  comforts  to  which  she  is,  in  a  sense,  entitled. 
After  all,  they  count  for  something.  I'm  trying  to  be 
practical,  but  I  love  her." 

"If  you  really  love  her,  I  think  you  would  do  well 


312        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

not  to  urge  her  just  now."  Osbom  remarked  quietly. 

*'  Ah.''  said  Thorn.  "I  can't  wait.  Waiting  has 
gained  nie  nothing  and  there  is  a  risk.  If  I  were 
young,  I'd  use  all  the  patience  I  could  control,  but  I'm 
getting  old  and  farther  away  from  Grace.  In  another 
year  or  two  I  shall  be  bald  and  fat.  Perhaps  the  argu- 
ment's humorous,  but  it  has  a  cruel  force  for  me." 

"  There  are  other  girls,  brought  up  as  we  have 
brought  up  Grace.     They  might  be  flattered  — " 

Thorn  spread  out  his  hands.  "  You  don't  under- 
stand. I'm  not  looking  for  a  wife!  I  love  her.  and 
if  she  cannot  be  persuaded,  will  never  marry  anybody 
else."  He  paused  and  resumed  with  some  emotion: 
"  I  know  the  shabbiness  of  using  this  opportunity;  but 
it's  the  last  I'll  get.  I  don't  want  to  work  on  her 
gratitude,  but  1  see  no  other  plan.  I  would  like  to  be 
generous  —  but  I  can't  let  her  go." 

"  Yet  you  seem  to  realize  that  she  does  not  like  you." 

"  She  will  get  over  that.  Her  likes  and  dislikes 
haven't  yet  hardened  into  their  final  mold.  She's  im- 
pulsive and  generous;  I  can  win  her  by  patience  and 
kindness." 

"  It  is  a  rash  experiment.  If  you  are  disappointed, 
Grace  would  have  to  pay." 

Thorn  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  He  had 
talked  with  sincere  passion,  but  now  began  to  think. 
Osborn's  firmness  was  something  of  a  surprise;  Thorn 
had  not  expected  he  would  weigh  his  daughter's  feel- 
ings against  the  danger  that  threatened  his  house.  His 
opposition  must  be  broken  down. 

**  I  had  hoped  for  your  consent,"  he  said  and  his 
face  got  hard.  "  To  some  extent,  I  took  it  for 
granted." 

Osborn's  head  sunk  forward.  He  had  struggled, 
but  saw  that  he  was  beaten.  To  beg  would  be  useless 
and  he  could  not  fight.  Pulling  himself  together  with 
an  effort,  he  looked  up. 


KIT  GOES  TO  THE  RESCUE        313 

"  You  mean  you  knew  I  could  not  refuse?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Thorn,  awkwardly,  "  I  suppose  I  do 
mean  something  Hke  that." 

Osborn  gave  him  a  long,  steady  look.  Thorn's  face 
was  set  and  his  mouth  was  firm.  There  was  no  hint 
of  yielding  and  Osborn  got  up.  "  Very  well ;  I  must 
tell  my  wife." 

He  rang  a  bell  and  a  minute  or  two  afterwards 
Mrs.  Osborn  came  in.  She  sat  down  and  Osborn  stood 
opposite. 

"  Alan  has  done  us  the  honor  of  asking  my  consent 
to  his  marrying  Grace,"  he  said,  with  ironical  formal- 
ity. "  If  we  approve,  he  is  willing  to  help  Gerald." 
He  turned  to  Thorn.  "  I  think  I  have  stated  your 
terms  ?  " 

Thorn  colored  as  he  saw  that  Mrs.  Osborn's  eyes 
were  fixed  on  him.  "  You  exaggerate.  I  am  willing 
to  do  you  a  service  that  nobody  else  can  render  and 
think  I'm  justified  in  counting  on  your  gratitude." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Osborn.  "  I  don't  see  much  dif- 
ference, except  that  you  want  to  save  our  pride."  He 
paused  and  looked  at  his  wife.  "  You  know  Grace 
best.     Will  she  consent?  " 

Something  in  his  manner  moved  Mrs.  Osborn.  It 
was  long  since  he  had  asked  what  she  thought,  and  she 
felt  encouraged.  Besides,  now  the  crisis  had  come, 
her  irresolution  had  vanished.  She  had  thrown  off  her 
reserve  and  meant  to  defend  her  daughter. 

"  No,"  she  said,  with  a  determined  note  in  her  quiet 
voice.  "  Even  if  she  were  willing,  I  should  protest. 
The  fault  is  Gerald's  and  he  must  suffer." 

Osborn  felt  some  surprise,  but  his  humiliation  had 
made  him  gentle.  "  Gerald  cannot  suffer  alone.  His 
disgrace  will  reflect  upon  us  all  and  if  he  has  a  son  it 
will  follow  him.  We  have  been  reckless  and  extrava- 
gant, but  we  have  kept  our  good  name  and  now,  when 
it  is  all  that  is  left  us,  it  must  be  protected." 


314        THE  BUCCANEER  FARxMER 

"  That  was  Gerald's  duty,"  Mrs.  Osborn  rejoined 
and  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  To  some  extent, 
her  husband's  point  of  view  was  hers  and  she  knew  his 
finest  quality  was  his  exaggerated  family  pride.  But 
she  would  not  force  her  daughter  to  marry  Thorn. 

"  I  will  not  consent,"  she  resumed.  "  Grace  has  long 
suffered  for  her  brother's  extravagance,  but  she  shall 
not  pay  for  his  folly  now.  It  is  unjust;  the  price  is 
too  high !  "  Then  she  gave  Thorn  an  appealing  glance. 
"  Alan,  can  you  not  be  generous?  " 

"  I'm  not  brave  enough ;  it  might  cost  me  too  much," 
Thorn  answered  in  a  strained  voice.  "  I  cannot  let 
Grace  go.     She  would  be  happy  with  me  after  a  time." 

Mrs.  Osborn  made  a  scornful  gesture  and  there  was 
silence.  Osborn  moved  irresolutely  and  it  looked  as 
if  he  were  hesitating;  then  steps  echoed  along  the  land- 
ing and  he  started  as  Kit  came  in.  Thorn's  face  got 
very  dark,  but  Mrs.  Osborn  looked  up  with  a  strange 
sense  of  relief. 

"  I  didn't  stop  to  ask  if  you  were  at  home,"  Kit  re- 
marked. **  As  you  know,  time  is  getting  short.  I 
understand  a  man  from  London  will  bring  you  a  docu- 
ment about  a  loan." 

"  That  is  so,"  said  Osborn,  hoarsely.  "  What  are 
you  going  to  do  about  the  document?  " 

"  Take  it  up,"  Kit  answered,  with  a  look  of  surprise. 
"  My  name's  on  the  back."  He  paused  and  glanced 
at  Thorn.  "  Still,  this  is  a  matter  I'd  sooner  talk  about 
with  you  alone." 

Thorn  got  up,  making  an  effort  for  self-control. 
"  Since  Mr.  Askew  has  arrived  I  needn't  stay."  He 
bowed  to  Mrs.  Osborn.  "  It  looks  as  if  I  had  not 
understood  things.     You  won't  need  my  help." 

He  went  out  with  a  curious  heavy  step,  and  when 
the  door  shut,  Osborn  sat  down  and  looked  at  Kit  as  if 
he  had  got  a  shock. 


KIT  GOES  TO  THE  RESCUE        315 

"  Then,  you  haven't  come  to  humble  mc?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Kit.  "  I  should  have  come 
before,  but  had  to  find  my  bank  manager,  who  had 
left  his  office." 

"Where  is  Gerald?  What  have  you  done  with 
him?  "  Mrs.  Osborn  asked,  for  she  began  to  see  a  light. 

"  Gerald's  at  the  station  hotel,  waiting  for  the  train 
to  Liverpool.  He  sails  for  New  York  to-morrow  and 
takes  a  letter  to  some  friends  of  mine  who  will  give 
him  a  good  start.     He  sent  a  note." 

Mrs.  Osborn  read  the  note  and  her  eyes  shone  as 
she  turned  them  on  Kit.  "  It  is  perhaps  the  best  plan. 
I  would  have  liked  to  see  him;  but  1  thank  you." 

"  What  I  have  done  cost  me  nothing,  and  I  imagine 
Gerald  will  have  as  good  as  chance  of  making  progress 
as  he  had  at  the  bank,  while  the  excitement  he'll  prob- 
ably get  will  suit  him  better.  But  Hallam  will  be  here 
soon  if  the  train  is  punctual,  and  before  he  comes  I 
want  to  know  — '' 

At  this  moment  they  heard  a  car  come  up  the  drive, 
a  servant  knocked  at  the  door,  and  Hallam  was  shown 
in.  He  sat  down  in  front  of  the  table  where  Osborn 
told  him,  and  glanced  at  Kit. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Askew,"  Osborn  said.  "  Mrs.  Os- 
born will  stay;  she  knows  your  business." 

Hallam  bowed  and  tried  not  to  look  surprised. 
"  Very  well.  I  have  brought  the  document  about 
which  you  wrote.  I  am  sorry  I  find  it  impossible  to 
renew  the  loan." 

"  Let  me  see  the  bill,"  said  Kit,  who  took  it  from 
him  and  afterwards  nodded.  "Yes;  that's  all  right  I 
Cancel  the  thing  and  I'll  give  you  a  cheque." 

"  You  admit  your  liability,  then?  "  Hallam  asked. 

"Of  course!  What  did  you  expect?  My  name's 
here.     It's  not  my  habit  to  disown  my  debts." 

Hallam  did  not  state  what  he  had  expected.     He 


3i6        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

was  tactful  and  was  satisfied  to  got  his  money.  Pull- 
ing out  a  fountain  pen.  he  cancelled  the  bill  and  put 
Kit's  cheque  in  his  pocket. 

"  That  is  all.  I  think,  and  I  can  get  a  train  if  1  start 
at  inice."  he  said.  "If  you  should  require  help  to 
e.xtcnd  your  farm  or  improve  your  stock.  1  shoukl  be 
glad  if  you  would  apply  to  me." 

"  I'm  afraid  your  interest  is  too  high."  Kit  rejoined 
with  a  smile,  and  Hallam  bowed  to  the  others  and  went 
out. 

When  he  had  gone.  Osborn  turned  to  Kit.  who  ga\ e 
Mrs.  Osborn  the  cancelled  bill. 

**  I  don't  uuilerstand,"  he  said  dully.  *'  Why  have 
you  come  to  my  rescue?  " 

"  To  some  extent,  it  was  for  Miss  Osborn's  sake." 

"  Ah ! ''  said  Osborn.  "  I  suppose  you  have  a  de- 
mand to  make  nmv  I  am  in  your  power?  " 

"  You  are  not  in  my  power.  Mrs.  Osborn  has  the 
bill,  and  if  you  cannot  repay  me.  I  won't  urge  the  debt. 
But  there  is,  so  to  speak,  a  stipulation.  You  must  use 
no  pressure  to  persuade  Miss  Osborn  to  marry  Mr. 
Thorn." 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  do  so,"  Osborn  remarked,  dryly. 
He  paused  and  his  face  got  red  as  he  struggleil  with 
his  deep-rooted  dislike  for  Kit. 

"  You  have  taken  a  very  generous  line,  Mr.  Askew." 
he  resumed.  **  We  have  not  been  friends,  but  I  must 
confess  it  looks  as  if  I  had  been  unjust." 

Kit  smiled.  "  Luck  made  us  antagonists.  1  low- 
ever,  I  hope  the  antagonism  has  gone  for  good,  because 
after  all  1  have  something  to  ask.  I  must  go  to  Lon- 
don on  some  business  to-morrow,  but  with  your  leave 
I  will  again  call  in  a  week." 

"  You  will  find  us  at  home  when  you  do  come." 
Osborn  answered  with  grave  politeness,  and  when  Kit 
got  up  Mrs.  Osborn  gave  him  her  hand. 

Lie  went  out  and  Osborn,  who  felt  limp  now  the 


KIJ    OOKS  TO  'I UK  KKSCUE        317 

strain  had  slackened,  leaned  back  heavily  in  his  chair 
and  looked  at  his  wife, 

**  Tlie  fellow  is  a  v/orking  farmer,  but  he  struck  just 
the  right  note.  Well,  he  has  l>eaten  me,  anrl  it's  easier 
to  be  Ix^atcn  by  him  than  I  thought.  But  he  states  he's 
coming  back  — " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Osborn.  "  I  think  he  means  to 
ask  for  Grace. " 

Osborn  knitted  his  brows.  "  I  imagined  that  was 
done  with.  It  is  one  thing  to  take  his  help  and  another 
to  give  him  Grace.  After  all,  there  is  not  much  differ- 
ence between  his  plan  and  Thorn's." 

"I  expect  you  will  find  the  difference  important," 
Mrs.  Osborn  replied  with  a  smile.  "  He  has  broken 
down  your  unjustified  prejudice,  and  if  he  is  the  man  1 
think,  he  will  leave  Grace  free  to  refuse  —  if  she  likes." 

'Jhen  she  went  out,  for  the  strain  had  been  hard  to 
bear,  and  Osborn  sat  at  the  table  with  his  hand  tightly 
closed.  He  admitted  that  he  had  from  the  Ijeginning 
been  wrong  about  Kit,  but  his  prejudices  were  not  alto- 
gether banished  yet. 


CHAPTER  X 
grace's  choice 

A  WEEK  after  Hallam's  visit,  Kit,  one  afternoon, 
started  for  Tarnside.  He  had  been  forced  to  go 
to  London  about  some  American  business,  but  this  was 
a  relief,  since  it  gave  him  an  excuse  for  delay.  At  his 
interview  with  Osborn  he  had  left  the  most  important 
thing  unsaid,  because  it  might  have  jarred  Mrs.  Osborn, 
whom  he  thought  his  friend,  had  he  asked  for  Grace  at 
the  moment  he  had  put  her  father  in  his  debt.  In  fact, 
he  saw  it  would  be  tactful  if  he  waited  for  some  time, 
but  he  did  not  mean  to  do  so.  To  some  extent,  he 
distrusted  Osborn  and  resolved  to  make  his  request 
before  the  latter's  gratitude  began  to  cool.  Grace  must 
have  full  liberty  to  refuse,  but  he  did  not  owe  her 
father  much. 

He  wondered  how  she  would  choose  and  his  step 
got  slower  until  he  stopped  and,  sitting  on  a  broken 
wall,  looked  up  the  valley.  The  day  was  calm  and  the 
sun  shone  on  smooth  pasture  and  yellow  com.  The 
becks  had  shrunk  in  the  shady  ghylls  and  a  thin  white 
line  was  all  that  marked  the  fall  where  the  main  stream 
leaped  down  the  Force  Crag.  On  the  steep  slopes  the 
heather  made  purple  patches  among  the  bent-grass  and 
Malton  moor  shone  red.  Kit  loved  the  quiet  hills ;  he 
had  known  intrigue  and  adventure  and  now  saw  his 
work  waiting  in  his  native  dale.  The  soil  called  him; 
his  job  was  to  extend  the  plow-land  and  improve  his 
flocks. 

This  was  important,  because  he  could  not  tell  how 
far  Grace  would  sympathize.     Her  father  liked  the 

318 


GRACE'S  CHOICE  319 

leading  place;  an  effort  for  display  and  such  luxury 
as  could  be  cheaply  got  were  the  rule  at  Tarnside.  It 
was  possible  that  Grace  had  unconsciously  accepted  a 
false  standard  of  values.  Kit  might,  for  her  sake, 
have  changed  his  mode  of  life,  had  he  thought  it  good 
for  her,  but  he  did  not.  She  must  have  inherited 
something  of  Osborn's  tastes  and  to  copy  the  Tarnside 
customs  might  encourage  their  development.  It  was 
better  to  remove  her  from  insidious  influences  to  fresh 
surroundings  where  she  would,  so  to  speak,  breath  a 
bracing  air.  But  this  could  not  be  done  unless  she 
were  willing  to  go. 

Kit  knitted  his  brows  as  he  mused,  because  there  was 
not  much  to  indicate  whether  he  would  find  Grace  will- 
ing or  not.  She  liked  him  well  enough,  but  he  had  not 
ventured  to  pose  as  her  lover.  He  was  too  proud  and 
jealous  for  her;  knowing  what  Osborn  thought,  he 
would  not  involve  her  in  a  secret  intrigue.  Yet  she 
had  been  kind  and  he  had  now  and  then  got  a  hint  of 
an  elusive  tenderness.  Moreover,  in  her  distress,  she 
had  come  to  him.  She  was  proud  and  he  thought 
would  not  have  asked  his  help  unless  she  was  willing  to 
give  something  in  return. 

After  a  time  he  got  up  with  a  quick,  resolute  move- 
ment. He  would  soon  know  if  he  had  set  his  hopes 
too  high,  and  would  gain  nothing  by  indulging  his 
doubts.  Crossing  a  field  where  the  binders  were  at 
work,  he  went  up  the  Tarnside  drive  with  a  firm  step 
and  saw  Osborn  and  Mrs.  Osborn  sitting  under  the 
copper-beech.  It  looked  as  if  they  were  waiting  for 
him,  and  he  braced  himself  as  he  advanced.  Mrs. 
Osborn  smiled  as  she  gave  him  her  hand  and  Osborn 
indicated  a  box  of  cigarettes. 

"  Sit  down.  Mrs.  Osborn  will  give  you  some  tea 
presently,"  he  said,  with  an  effort  for  hospitable  polite- 
ness, because  he  could  not  yet  resign  himself  to  the 
demand  his  wife  expected  Kit  would  make.     "  You 


320        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

have  been  to  town  on  business,"  he  resumed,  feeling 
that  silence  would  be  awkward.  "  I  hope  you  found 
things  satisfactory." 

"  I  did,"  said  Kit,  who  was  glad  that  Osborn  had, 
no  doubt  unconsciously,  given  him  a  lead.  He  had 
gone  to  visit  the  agents  of  his  American  bankers,  and 
had  learned  that  x'Xdam's  estate  had  turned  out  to  be 
worth  more  than  he  had  thought.  "  It  was  a  relief, 
because  it  helps  me  to  get  over  some  of  the  hesitation 
I  felt,"  he  resumed.  "  I  want  your  permission  to  ask 
Miss  Osborn  if  she  will  marry  me." 

Osborn  tried  to  hide  his  disturbed  feelings  and  an- 
swered with  forced  quietness:  "  My  wife  warned  me 
that  I  might  expect  something  like  this,  but  I  must 
own  that  I  find  agreement  hard.  However,  after  the 
help  you  have  given  us,  it  is  plain  that  I  must  try  to 
overcome  my  reluctance." 

"  That  is  all  I  ask  in  the  meantime,"  said  Kit.  "  I 
don't  expect  you  to  influence  Miss  Osborn.  In  fact, 
she  must  understand  that  I  have  no  claim  and  feel 
herself  free  to  refuse." 

"  You  are  generous,"  Mrs.  Osborn  remarked.  "  Of 
course,  it  is  obvious  that  her  gratitude  must  count  for 
much." 

"  I  don't  want  her  gratitude  to  count,"  Kit  declared, 
and  Osborn  gave  him  a  puzzled  glance. 

"  There  is  something  else  that  must  be  said.  Grace 
has  been  indulged  and  knows  nothing  of  self-denial. 
Frugality  that  you  think  proper  and  usual  would  be 
hardship  to  her.  Can  you  give  your  wife  the  comforts 
and  refinements  she  has  had  at  home?  " 

Kit  noted  Mrs.  Osborn's  faint  smile  and  wondered 
whether  it  hinted  at  ironical  amusement,  but  he  put  a 
document  on  the  table. 

"  You  are  entitled  to  ask  and  I  have  brought  a  short 
draught  of  the  arrangements  I  am  ready  to  make  if  I 
am  fortunate  enough  to  win  your  daughter." 


GRACE'S  CHOICE  321 

Osborn  picked  up  the  paper  and  gave  it  to  his  wife. 
Then  he  looked  at  Kit  with  surprise. 

"  This  alters  things ;  you  are  almost  a  rich  man ! 
If  you  wanted,  you  could  buy  a  house  like  Tarn- 
side/' 

"  No,"  said  Kit  firmly;  "  it  alters  nothing  and  leaves 
me  where  I  was.     I'm  satisfied  with  Ashness." 

"  Ah,"  said  Osborn.  "  You  mean  you  would  sooner 
be  a  working  farmer  than  a  country  gentleman  ?  The 
preference  is  somewhat  remarkable!" 

"  I  know  where  I  belong.  The  important  thing  is 
that  if  Miss  Osborn  marries  me,  she  will  be  a  farmer's 
wife." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Osborn.  "  From  my  point  of  view, 
it's  an  awkward  drawback.  I  doubt  if  my  daughter 
is  suited  for  the  part."  He  looked  at  Mrs.  Osborn 
and  resumed :  "  But  this  is  a  matter  Grace  must  de- 
cide about  and  you  insisted  that  no  pressure  should  be 
used.  I  imagine  you  were  afraid  of  my  influence  and 
do  not  know  if  I  am  afraid  of  yours  or  not.  If  you 
agree,  I  will  send  for  her." 

Kit  said  he  was  willing  and  was  silent  when  Osborn 
went  away.  Although  he  imagined  Mrs.  Osborn  was 
sympathetic,  he  could  not  force  himself  to  talk.  Since 
he  had  insisted  that  persuasion  must  not  be  used,  he 
could  not  demand  to  meet  Grace  alone  and  she  might 
find  it  hard  to  accept  his  plans  without  some  explana- 
tion, which  would  be  awkward  to  give  when  her  parents 
were  there.  He  could,  if  he  wanted,  change  his  mode 
of  life,  but  if  they  were  to  be  happy,  she  must  be  re- 
moved from  influences  he  thought  dangerous  and  he 
must  use  his  energy  in  useful  work.  He  saw  this 
very  clearly;  but  whether  Grace  would  see  it  was 
another  thing.  .     ,        ,  .    j 

He  felt  some  strain  while  he  waited  and  watched 
the  trembling  shadows  move  upon  the  grass.  The 
rays  of  light  that  pierced  the  dark   foliage  flickered 


322        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

about  Mrs.  Osbom's  dress  and  when  he  glanced  at 
her  he  thought  her  look  encouraging,  but  she  did  not 
speak.  By  and  by  Osborn  returned  and  said  Grace  was 
coming,  and  Kit  found  the  suspense  hard  to  bear. 

At  length  she  came  and  his  heart  beat  as  he  watched 
her  cross  the  lawn.  She  wore  a  plain  white  dress  and 
when  she  stopped  in  front  of  the  others  her  face  was 
pale  but  calm. 

"  Mr.  Askew  has  asked  my  permission  to  marry  you 
and  I  cannot  refuse  if  you  agree,"  Osborn  said  in  a 
formal  tone.  "  He  stipulates  that  I  must  not  persuade 
you  one  way  or  the  other,  and  declares  that  he  does 
not  want  to  work  upon  your  gratitude." 

Some  color  came  into  Grace's  face  as  she  looked  at 
'Kit.     "Then,  you  don't  value  my  gratitude?  " 

"  I  value  it  very  much,"  Kit  replied  with  forced 
quietness.     "  But  I  feel  it  ought  not  to  count." 

He  stopped  awkwardly,  for  he  noted  a  sparkle  in 
Grace's  e}'es  and  felt  that  he  was  badly  handicapped. 
She  was  proud  and  probably  did  not  understand  his 
disinterested  attitude.  It  was  a  relief  when  Mrs.  Os- 
born interposed : 

"  Mr.  Askew  is  trying  to  be  just.  We  have  agreed 
that  you  are  not  to  be  influenced." 

"  Ah,"  said  Grace.  "  I  think  I  see  — " 

She  waited  and  Osborn  went  on :  "  Since  you  are 
to  make  a  free  choice,  I  must  state  things  as  plainly 
as  I  can.  Mr.  Askew  is  not  poor;  he  is  able  to  give 
you  all  we  think  you  ought  to  have.  In  fact,  there  is 
no  very  obvious  reason  he  should  not  leave  Ashness,  but 
he  does  not  mean  to  do  so.  and  although  I  cannot  follow 
his  argument,  imagines  that  it  would  be  better  for  you 
both  if  he  carries  on  his  farming.  It  looks  as  if  he 
did  not  approve  our  rule." 

Kit  frowned,  and  colored  when  Grace  turned  to  him. 
On  the  whole,  Osborn  had  not  stated  things  incor- 
rectly,   but   the    situation   was    embarrassing;    Grace 


GRACE'S  CHOICE  323 

would,  no  doubt,  resent  the  stipulation  he  felt  forced 
to  make  and  expect  a  more  lover-like  attitude  from 
the  man  who  asked  her  to  be  his  wife. 

"  Grace,"  he  said  appealingly,  "  I'm  afraid  you  don't 
understand.  But  when  you  must  give  up  so  much 
I  durst  not  hide  the  drawbacks.  Besides,  it's  agreed 
that  I  must  not  urge  you." 

She  studied  him  for  a  moment.  "  I  do  understand," 
she  said,  and  then  turned  to  Osborn.  "  I  suppose  you 
are  trying  to  guard  me,  but  I  am  not  afraid.  One  gets 
tired  of  pretense  and  secret  economy,  and  forced  idle- 
ness has  not  much  charm.  Well,  if  Mr.  Askew,  know- 
ing what  he  knows  about  us,  is  willing  to  run  the 
risk—" 

"  Grace !  "  said  Kit,  moving  forward,  but  she  stopped 
him  with  a  proud  gesture. 

"  There  is  a  risk.  I  think  we  shall  both  need  cour- 
age, but  if  you  are  willing  I  need  not  hesitate.  I  will 
try  to  make  a  good  farmer's  wife." 

She  turned  and  went  away,  and  the  blood  came  into 
Kit's  face  as  he  looked  at  Osborn. 

"  I  have  played  fair,  but  it  was  hard.  Now  you 
have  heard  her  answer,  I'm  at  liberty  to  plead  my 
cause.'' 

Osborn  said  nothing,  but  his  wife  gave  Kit  a  friendly 
smile  and  he  went  off  with  a  resolute  step  in  pursuit 
of  Grace.  He  came  up  with  her  in  a  shrubbery,  but 
it  looked  as  if  she  did  not  hear  him,  for  her  head  was 
bent. 

"  Grace,"  he  said,  putting  his  hand  on  her  arm. 
"  I'm  embarrassed  and,  in  a  way,  ashamed." 

She  turned  and  confronted  him  with  her  wonted 
calm.  "  I  don't  see  why  you  are  ashamed.  You  were 
just  —  I  think  I  mean  quite  impartial.  You  wanted 
me  to  weigh  things  and  would  have  been  resigned  if  I 
had  found  the  drawbacks  too  much." 

"  It  wasn't  as  easy  as  you  think,"  said  Kit  grimly. 


324        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  In  fact,  I  was  burning  with  anger  and  suspense. 
But,  you  see,  I  had  promised  your  father  — " 

''Yes,"  said  Grace;  "that  was  plain.  You  were 
firm  when  you  thought  I  might  be  forced  to  marry 
Thorn,  and  when  father  agreed  not  to  use  his  influ- 
ence, I  suppose  you  could  not  use  yours.  Well,  I'm 
glad  you  were  angry ;  it  was  human,  and  your  scrupu- 
lous fairness  was  not  flattering."  She  paused  and, 
to  Kit's  relief,  gave  him  a  smile.  "  After  all,  it  would 
not  have  hurt  to  be  urged  to  marry  the  man  I  did 
hke." 

"  You  mean  me?  "  said  Kit  and  boldly  took  her  in 
his  arms. 

She  drew  back  from  him.  blushing,  after  a  few  mo- 
ments, but  Kit  was  content.  There  was  something 
fascinatingly  elusive  aDout  Grace  and  he  could  wait. 
They  went  on  quietly  down  the  path  until  they  came 
to  a  bench  in  a  shady  nook.  Kit  leaned  against  a  tree 
and  Grace  sat  down. 

"  Kit,"  she  said,  **  I  didn't  know  you  were  rich.  It 
really  doesn't  matter,  but  I'm  glad  I  fell  in  love  with 
you  when  I  didn't  know." 

"  Then,  you  were  in  love  with  me?  " 

She  smiled.  "Of  course !  I  must  have  been,  when 
I  came  to  you  because  I  was  afraid  of  Thorn.  Love 
gave  me  confidence ;  I  knew  you  would  help.  In  a  way, 
I  did  an  extravagant  thing,  because  you  were  not  really 
like  a  lover  at  all." 

"The  control  I  used  often  hurt,"  said  Kit.  "I 
was  afraid  I  might  alarm  and  lose  you;  it  was  much 
to  see  you  now  and  then."  He  paused,  feeling  there 
was  something  to  be  said  that  must  be  said  now. 
"  However,  about  Ashness  — " 

"  Oh,"  said  Grace,  "  I  suppose  it  cost  you  an  effort 
to  be  firm  and  I  hope  it  did.  You  needn't  be  afraid, 
though.     When  my  father  told  me,  I  understood,  and 


GRACE'S  CHOICE  325 

it  won't  hurt  to  leave  Tarnside;  I'm  anxious  to  get 
awa}^" 

"  My  dear !  "  said  Kit.  **  Ashness  has  some  charm 
and  we  will  try  to  make  it  a  proper  home  for  you." 

"  It  is  a  home;  I  sometimes  went  to  see  your  father 
—  I  liked  him  so  much,  Kit.  One  feels  the  old  house 
has  sheltered  sincere  men  and  women  who  loved  each 
other  and  something  they  left  haunts  the  quiet  spot. 
I  don't  want  you  to  alter  it  much." 

"  You  shall  alter  it  as  you  like.  The  only  rule  at 
Ashness  will  be  what  pleases  you." 

"  Now  you're  very  nice !  I'm  going  to  be  happy 
because  I  can  be  myself.  So  far,  I've  been  forced 
to  be  reserved.     You  don't  really  know  me,  Kit." 

"Perhaps  that's  true,"  Kit  remarked.  "You're 
wonderful,  because  there's  always  some  fresh  charm 
to  learn.  I  thought  I  knew  you  before  I  went  away, 
but  when  I  came  back  I  saw  how  foolish  I  was.  1 
wonder  whether  you  knew  I  loved  you  then  ?  " 

Grace  blushed.     "  I  think  I  knew,  and  felt  cheated.  " 

"Why  did  you  feel  cheated?" 

"  Oh,"  said  Grace,  "  I  liked  you!  I  was  young  and 
felt  I  was  entitled  to  love  a  man  who  loved  me,  if  i 
wanted,  but  couldn't  use  my  right.  Then,  not  lonj, 
since,  when  you  were  so  grave  and  just,  I  felt  I  had 
been  cheated  worse." 

**  I  see,"  said  Kit  and  came  nearer  the  bench.  "  I 
was  cheated,  too.  But  look  at  me,  dear,  and  I'll  tr) 
to  tell  you  all  I  think." 

He  told  her  with  fire  and  passion  and  when  he 
stopped,  bending  down  to  her,  she  put  her  arm  round 
his  neck. 

"  Now  you're  ridiculously  romantic,  but  you're  very 
charming,  Kit,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER.  XI 

osborn's  surrender 

BY  degrees  Osborn  accepted  his  daughter's  choice 
philosophically.  Kit  was  not  the  son-in-law  he 
had  wanted,  but  he  was  forced  to  admit  that  the  fellow 
jarred  less  than  he  had  thought.  For  one  thing,  he 
never  reminded  Osborn  of  the  benefit  he  had  conferred, 
and  the  latter  noted  that  his  country-house  neighbors 
opened  their  doors  to  him.  They  could  not,  of  course, 
altogether  ignore  the  man  Grace  had  promised  to 
marry,  but  Osborn  soon  had  grounds  for  imagining 
that  they  liked  Kit  for  himself.  The  wedding  had 
been  fixed  and  Osborn,  although  not  satisfied,  was  re- 
signed. 

In  the  meantime,  it  began  to  look  as  if  the  gloom 
that  had  long  ruled  at  Tarnside  was  banished.  Mrs. 
Osborn's  reserve  was  less  marked,  she  smiled,  and 
her  step  was  lighter.  Grace,  too,  had  changed,  and 
developed.  She  had  often  been  impatient  but  now 
was  marked  by  a  happy  calm.  Osborn  found  her 
gentler  and  sometimes  strangely  compliant,  although 
he  felt  he  must  make  no  rash  demands.  The  girl  in- 
dulged him,  but  she  could  be  firm.  Her  new  serenity 
had  a  charm.  Moreover,  Gerald  wrote  cheerful  let- 
ters and  declared  that  he  was  making  better  progress 
than  would  have  been  possible  for  him  at  home, 

Osborn  had  seldom  thought  much  about  the  happi- 
ness of  his  family,  but  he  felt  a  dull  satisfaction  be- 
cause things  were  going  well  with  the  others.  It  was 
a  set-off  against  his  troubles,  which  were  getting  worse. 

326 


OSBORN'S  SURRENDER  327 

The  improvements  his  tenants  and  Hayes  had  forced 
him  to  make  cost  more  than  he  calculated  and  he  met 
stubborn  resistance  when  he  talked  about  putting  up 
the  rents.  The  money  he  had  got  by  the  last  mort- 
gage had  gone;  he  could  not  borrow  more,  and  his 
creditors  demanded  payment  of  his  debts.  He  put 
off  the  reckoning,  however,  until,  one  day  when  he 
drove  to  the  market  town  to  consult  his  agent,  he  got 
a  rude  jar. 

In  the  first  place,  Hayes  kept  him  waiting  in  a  cold 
room,  and  he  stood  for  a  time  by  the  window,  looking 
out  drearily  at  the  old-fashioned  square.  The  day 
was  bleak  and  wet,  and  the  high  moors  that  shut  in  the 
little  town  loomed,  blurred  and  forbidding,  through 
drifting  mist.  The  square  was  empty,  the  fronts  of 
the  tall  old  houses  were  dark  with  rain,  and  the  drops 
from  a  clump  of  bare  trees  fell  in  a  steady  shower 
on  the  grass  behind  the  iron  rails.  The  gloom  reacted 
upon  Osborn's  disturbed  mood,  and  he  frowned  when 
Hayes  came  in, 

"  I  sent  you  word  that  I  would  call,"  he  said. 

"  You  did,"  Hayes  agreed.  "  I  was  occupied  when 
my  clerk  told  me  you  were  here." 

Osborn  looked  at  him  with  some  surprise.  Hayes 
was  very  cool  and  not  apologetic.  "  Well,"  he  said, 
"  you  know  what  I  want  to  talk  about.  I  suppose  you 
have  seen  Forsyth  and  Langdon  about  the  renewal  of 
their  leases?  " 

"  Yes.  Both  state  they'll  go  sooner  than  pay  you 
extra  rent." 

"  Then  they  must  go,"  Osborn  rejoined,  trying  to 
hide  his  disappointment,  since  he  had  spent  some  money 
on  the  steadings  in  the  hope  of  raising  the  rent.  Now 
he  came  to  think  of  it,  Hayes  had  held  this  out  as  an 
inducement  when  he  urged  the  expenditure.  "  It  looks 
as  if  your  judgment  wasn't  very  good,  but  by  com- 
parison with  other  things  the  matter's  not  important," 


328        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

he  resumed.     "  You  know  the  sum  Fll  need  between 
now  and  the  end  of  the  term?  " 

"  I  do  know.  In  fact,  I  imagine  you  will  need  more 
than  you  suspect,"  Hayes  rejoined.  "  You'll  find  it 
impossible  to  borrow  the  money  on  satisfactory  terms." 

Osborn  looked  hard  at  him.  The  fellow's  manner 
was  rather  abrupt  than  sympathetic;  but  Hayes  went 
on :  "  Before  we  advertise  for  new  tenants,  there  is 
something  I  want  to  suggest.  Although  the  farms 
are  mortgaged,  I  might  be  able  to  find  a  buyer  —  at 
a  price." 

"  No,"  said  Osborn  firmly.  "  The  buyer  would 
have  to  undertake  the  debt  and  the  sum  he  would  be 
willing  to  pay  would  not  last  me  long.  When  it  was 
spent  I'd  have  practically  nothing  left." 

"The  situation's  awkward;  but  there  it  is!  Of 
course,  if  you  were  able  to  carry  on  until  your  rents 
come  in — " 

"  You  know  I  can't  carry  on.  I  came  to  you,  hoping 
you  might  suggest  a  workable  plan.  Who  is  the 
buyer? " 

"  I  am,"  said  Hayes. 

Osborn's  face  got  red  and  he  struggled  for  self-con- 
trol. The  fellow  was  his  servant,  but  it  looked  as  if  he 
had  cunningly  involved  him  in  entanglements  an  honest 
agent  would  have  avoided.  Osborn  remembered  that 
he  had  sometimes  vaguely  suspected  Hayes.  Now  he 
knew  him,  it  was  too  late. 

"  I  may  be  forced  to  sell,  but  not  to  you,"  he  said 
haughtily. 

Hayes  shrugged.  "  That  must  be  as  you  like,  but 
I'm  able  to  give  you  a  better  price  than  anybody  else. 
I  have  an  object  for  buying  the  farms  and,  if  necessary, 
i would  pay  something  near  their  proper  value,  with- 
out taking  off  much  for  the  debt.  Anyhow,  you  had 
better  look  at  this  statement  of  your  liabilities." 
■  Osborn  studied  the  document  with  a  hopeless  feeling. 


OSBORN'S  SURRENDER  329 

Things  were  worse  than  he  had  feared  and  it  cost  him 
an  effort  to  pull  himself  together  when  he  looked  up. 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  buy?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  you  see,  the  land  between  Forsyth's  and  the 
dale-head  is  heavily  mortgaged,  and,  taking  the  two 
farms  with  the  others,  would  make  a  compact  block 
that  could  be  economically  worked.  The  new  estate 
would  run  down  to  Tarnside,  and  since  you  may  find 
it  needful  to  sell  the  house,  I  might  make  you  an  offer." 

"  But  the  consolidation  wouldn't  help  you,"  Osborn 
remarked  with  a  puzzled  look.  "  It  would,  perhaps, 
be  an  advantage  for  the  mortgage  holders." 

*'  I  hold  the  mortgages,"  Hayes  said  quietly. 

Osborn  started.  "  But,"  he  stammered,  "  I  got  the 
money  from  somebody  else." 

"  That  is  so.  I  bought  the  other  debts,  and  supplied 
the  funds  when  you  raised  new  loans." 

"You  bought  the  debts  with  my  money!  "  Osborn 
exclaimed.  "  You  used  your  post  to  rob  me  of  my 
estate ! " 

"  I  suppose  one  must  make  allowances,  but  you  are 
unjust.  You  got  the  proper  value  for  the  land  you 
pawned,  and  squandered  the  money.  The  consequence 
was  inevitable  and  it's  futile  to  complain.  For  that 
matter,  it  is  not  altogether  unusual  for  a  landlord  and 
his  steward  to  change  places." 

"  I  trusted  you  and  you  cheated  me,"  Osborn  re- 
sumed with  poignant  bitterness. 

"  You  lived  in  false  security  and  refused  to  think. 
You  knew  the  reckoning  must  come,  but  were  satisfied 
if  you  could  put  it  off.  Now  you  must  bear  the  con- 
sequences, it  is  not  my  fault.  However,  this  is  not 
important.     Will  you  sell  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Osborn  hoarsely.  *'  I  will  not  sell  to 
you." 

Hayes  smiled.  "  You  must  sell  to  somebody  and 
will  not  get  as  good  a  price." 


330        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

Osborn  got  up  and  went  out  with  a  dragging  step. 
The  blow  had  left  him  numb,  but  as  he  drove  home 
in  the  rain  he  had  a  hazy  notion  that  Hayes'  state- 
ments were  to  some  extent  justified.  He  had  lived  in 
false  security;  seeing  how  things  were  going  and  yet 
refusing  to  believe.  Somehow,  it  had  looked  impos- 
sible for  him  to  lose  Tarnside.  The  estate  was  his 
by  the  sacred  right  of  inheritance;  for  a  hundred  years 
there  had  been  an  Osborn  at  the  Hall.  Yet  the  estate 
had  gone,  and  he  was  to  blame.  It  had,  so  to  speak, 
melted  in  his  careless  hands.  He  felt  old  and  broken 
when  he  told  his  wife  and  daughter  about  the  inter- 
view. 

Mrs.  Osborn  did  not  look  as  much  surprised  as  he 
had  thought  and  Grace,  although  sympathetic,  was 
calm.  They  had  known  the  blow  was  coming  and 
were  ready  for  the  shock.  After  a  time,  Osborn  left 
them  and  Grace  looked  at  her  mother. 

"  I  must  tell  Kit." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Osborn.  "  I  think  he  ought  to 
know,  though  this  is  not  a  matter  in  which  he  can 
help." 

"  It  looks  like  that,"  Grace  agreed  and  then  paused 
with  a  confident  smile.  "  But  Kit's  rather  wonderful ; 
you  don't  really  know  him  yet.  He  always  finds  a 
way  when  there  is  something  hard  to  be  done." 

"  Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Osborn,  "  there  is  comfort  in  our 
troubles  since  they  have  given  you  a  man  you  can 
trust." 

Grace  went  to  Ashness  and  found  Kit  studying  some 
accounts  in  the  room  she  called  his  museum. 

'*  Put  the  books  away,  come  to  the  fire  and  talk  to 
me,"  said  Grace,  and  stopped  him  when  he  moved  a 
chair.  "  I  think  I'll  take  the  low  stool.  It's  wretch- 
edly cold  and  I  really  came  to  be  comforted." 

She  sat  down,  leaning  against  his  chair  with  her 


OSBORN'S  SURRENDER  331 

head  turned  so  that  she  could  look  up,  and  held  her 
hands  to  the  fire.  Kit's  heart  beat,  for  Grace  had 
developed  recently;  her  reserve  had  gone  and  a  curious, 
frank  tenderness  had  come  instead. 

"  This  is  very  nice,"  she  resumed.  "  There's  some- 
thing very  homelike  about  Ashness.  Perhaps  I'm 
romantic,  but  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  your  father  was 
still  at  the  old  house.  It's  kind  and  quiet  —  like  him. 
Don't  you  think  people  can  leave  an  influence,  Kit?" 

"  Yours  will  last.  So  far,  I  haven't  had  much  quiet- 
ness." 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  come  to  bother  you  again.  I  hate 
to  bother  you,  but  somehow  trouble  seems  to  follow 
me." 

"  Your  troubles  are  mine,"  Kit  said  and  stroked  her 
head.     "  Tell  me  about  it." 

Grace  told  him,  and  although  he  said  nothing,  waited 
calmly.  His  face  was  thoughtful  but  the  silence  was 
not  awkward;  she  felt  that  it  was  marked  by  an  inti- 
mate confidence. 

"  Kit,"  she  resumed  at  length,  "  I  don't  know  if 
you  can  help,  or  if  you  ought.  You  must  decide,  dear. 
I  just  wanted  to  tell  you,  and  I'm  comforted." 

"  I  can  help,"  Kit  answered  quietly.  "  People 
abroad  have  paid  some  debts  I  didn't  expect  to  get  and 
I'm  richer  than  I  thought."  He  paused  and  mused 
for  a  moment  or  two.  "  It's  strange  the  thing  should 
happen  now.  When  I  came  home  I  imagined  Ash- 
ness would  occupy  all  my  time,  but  I  soon  began  to  feel 
I  hadn't  scope  enough.  You  see,  I'd  been  with  Adam 
and  he  was  a  hustler.  Well,  it  looks  as  if  I  had  found 
a  new  field." 

"  You  mean  you  might  buy  Tarnside  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  think  the  estate  might  be  made  to  pay. 
High  farming's  a  risky  business  in  our  climate  and  we 
have  been  satisfied  to  spend  little  and  get  a  small  return. 


332        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

I  think  there's  a  better  plan  than  that;  if  one  uses 
modern  methods  and  can  invest  the  capital.  How- 
ever, I  see  an  obstacle  to  my  buying  Tarnside." 

''Father?"  Grace  suggested.  "Well,  Fm  afraid 
he  would  never  be  economical  and  he  likes  to  rule. 
But  I  didn't  mean,  Kit,  that  you  should  give  him  money 
to  squander." 

"  I  know,"  said  Kit  gently,  although  his  face  was 
rather  stern.  "  Adam's  legacy  must  not  be  wasted  in 
extravagance.  Then,  you  see,  Tarnside  ought  to  have 
been  Gerald's;  but  he's  ruled  out — " 

Grace  looked  up.  "  Yes,  Kit.  Now  you  have  given 
him  a  fresh  start,  he  may  make  a  useful  man,  but  Tarn- 
side is  not  for  him.''  She  paused  and  blushed,  but  her 
glance  was  steady  as  she  went  on :  "  It  must  be  ours, 
if  you  buy  it,  for  us  to  hold  in  trust  — " 

She  turned  her  head  and  Kit  quietly  touched  her  hair. 
They  were  silent  for  a  few  moments  and  then  he  said, 
"If  the  estate  is  to  be  properly  managed,  my  part 
will  need  much  tact  and  I'm  impatient  now  and  then. 
But,  we  would  live  at  Ashness  and  your  mother  would 
understand  my  difficulties." 

"  She  would  help.  Father's  old,  Kit,  and  might  be 
indulged.  You  would  try  not  to  hurt  him,  and  could 
consult  him  about  things  that  didn't  matter.  I  think 
he'd  be  satisfied  if  you  let  him  imagine  he  had  some 
control." 

Kit  smiled.  "  Very  well ;  we  will  make  the  plunge. 
Tell  your  father  to  do  nothing  until  Hayes  moves. 
The  fellow's  cunning  and  it  might  be  better  if  he  didn't 
know  what  we  mean  to  do." 

He  bent  down  and  kissed  her  and  she  pressed  her 
face  against  his  hand.  "  Kit,  you're  wonderful. 
Things  get  done  when  you  come  on  the  scene,  but  per- 
haps you're  nicest  when  they're  done  for  me.  After 
all,  I  am  an  Osborn  and  would  have  hated  to  let  Tarn- 


OSBORN'S  SURRENDER  333 

side  go ;  let's  plan  what  we  can  do  when  it  belongs  to 
us." 

For  a  time  they  engaged  in  happy  talk,  but  Kit  re- 
opened his  account  books  when  Grace  went  home.  It 
looked  as  if  he  were  about  to  make  a  rash  plunge,  be- 
cause he  would  not  have  much  money  left  when  he 
had  carried  out  his  plans.  However,  he  could  guard 
against  the  worst  risks  and  on  the  whole  imagined  the 
venture  ought  to  pay. 

Some  weeks  later,  Osborn  sent  for  him  and  on  reach- 
ing Tarnside  he  was  shown  into  the  library.  Mrs. 
Osborn  was  with  her  husband  and  there  was  a  bundle 
of  papers  on  the  big  table. 

"  I  have  got  the  particulars  you  wanted,"  Osborn 
said.  "  Hayes  will  arrive  in  half  an  hour,  but  that 
should  give  us  time  enough." 

Kit  nodded.     "  Yes,  I  want  a  few  minutes." 

When  he  had  studied  the  documents  he  looked  up. 
Tarnside  would  soon  be  his  and  he  glanced  about  the 
library  with  a  new  curiosity.  Although  the  day  was 
dark  and  rain  beat  upon  the  high  windows,  the  light 
was  strong  enough  to  show  the  fine  modeling  of  the 
old  and  shabby  furniture.  It  was  a  noble  room  and 
with  well  used  money  could  be  given  a  touch  of  state- 
lieness ;  but  there  was  something  cold  and  austere  about 
Tarnside,  while  Ashness  was  homelike  and  warm.  His 
short  survey  strengthened  Kit's  half-conscious  feeling 
that  he  belonged  to  the  farm  and  not  the  Hall. 

"  Two  things  are  obvious,"  he  remarked.  "  The 
mortgages  must  be  wiped  off;  and  when  other  debts 
have  been  paid,  the  rents  of  the  land  I'm  willing  to  re- 
deem ought  to  keep  you  going,  if  they're  economically 
used." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  Osborn  rejoined.  "  So  far,  the  rents 
of  the  whole  estate  have  failed  to  do  so." 

"  They  will  do  so  now,"   Kit  said   rather  dryly. 


334        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

"  That  is,  if  I'm  to  free  the  land.  But  you  must  de- 
cide if  you  will  help  or  not." 

He  looked  at  Mrs.  Osborn,  who  made  a  sign  of 
agreement.  "  There  will  be  enough,  Kit.  Indeed, 
in  some  ways,  we  shall  be  better  off  than  we  were." 

"  You  have  pluck,"  said  Kit,  and  turned  to  Osborn, 
knowing  he  must  be  firm.  "  The  house  and  grounds 
will  be  yours  to  use  as  you  like  and  the  farmers  will 
bring  their  complaints  and  requests  first  to  you.  You 
will  be  the  acknowledged  landlord  and  I  shall  be  glad 
of  your  advice;  but  the  expenditure  will  be  controlled 
by  me." 

Osborn  did  not  reply,  but  Mrs.  Osborn  said,  "  It 
is  a  generous  offer." 

Kit  waited,  conscious  of  some  suspense,  for  he 
doubted  if  Osborn's  pride  was  quite  humbled  yet. 
He  did  not  want  to  humble  him,  but,  for  the  sake  of 
Grace  and  her  mother,  did  not  mean  to  let  him  wreck 
his  plans.     After  a  few  moments  Osborn  looked  up. 

"  It  is  a  hard  choice,  but  you  have  taken  the  proper 
line  and  I'm  resigned,"  he  said.  "  After  all,  I  have 
had  my  day,  and  although  luck  has  been  against  me, 
cannot  claim  that  I  have  used  it  well.  Besides,  I'm 
not  robbing  Gerald  by  agreeing  to  your  plan;  Gerald 
robbed  himself  and  me."  He  paused  and  went  on 
with  some  emotion :  "  Very  well,  I'm  ready  to  ab- 
dicate, and  thank  you  for  trying  to  save  my  feelings 
by  giving  me  nominal  control." 

There  was  nothing  more  of  much  importance  to 
be  said,  and  with  the  object  of  banishing  the  strain,  Kit 
began  to  talk  about  improving  some  of  the  farms. 
Osborn  did  not  help  him  much,  but  he  kept  it  up  until 
Hayes  arrived.  The  latter  seemed  surprised  to  see 
Kit  and  hesitated  when  Osborn  indicated  a  chair. 

"  Mrs.  Osborn  will  stay,  and  I  brought  Mr.  Askew 
to  meet  you." 

"  As  you  like,"  said  Hayes,  who  looked  annoyed, 


.     OSBORN'S  SURRENDER  335 

but  sat  down  and  took  out  some  documents.  "  You 
have  had  formal  notice  that  repayment  of  these  loans 
is  due;  and  it  would  be  an  advantage  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  taking  up  the  other  mortgages  that  will  soon 
run  out.  Some  time  since,  I  made  you  an  offer  that 
you  refused." 

"  That  is  so,"  Osborn  agreed.  "  Your  offer  is  still 
unacceptable.     What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"  I  must  advertise  the  mortgaged  farms  for  public 
sale,  and  when  arrears  of  interest,  various  charges, 
and  smaller  loans  are  deducted,  there  will  probably 
be  nothing  left.  The  rest  is  not  my  business,  but  I 
have  managed  the  estate  and  do  not  see  how  you  can 
carry  on." 

*'  It  is  not  your  business,  and  Mr.  Askew  has  a 
plan." 

Hayes  smiled  as  he  turned  to  Kit.  "  You  may  per- 
haps resent  my  advice,  but  I  think  it's  sound;  you 
would  be  rash  to  meddle.  A  small  sum  would  be  swal- 
lowed up  and  make  no  difference.  You  would  be 
poorer  and  Mr.  Osborn  would  not  gain." 

"  That's  obvious,  if  the  sum  were  small,"  Kit  agreed. 
"  But  how  much  do  you  expect  to  get  if  you  sell  the 
farms?" 

He  nodded  when  Hayes  told  him.  "  A  fair  esti- 
mate! I  think  we  can  take  it  as  the  proper  price. 
You  mean  to  buy  the  farms  in,  but  I  want  them  too, 
and  if  you  force  a  sale,  I'll  bid  higher." 

"Can  you  bid  against  me?"  Hayes  asked  with 
something  of  a  sneer. 

"  I'll  answer  that  afterwards.  In  the  meantime,  let 
me  state  that  I  want  the  other  farms  when  the  mort- 
gages run  out.  You  can  fight  me.  if  you  like,  but  I 
don't  think  it  will  pay  you.  and  if  we  run  prices  up 
Mr.  Osborn  will  gain.  Very  well,  here's  my  offer  to 
buy  up  all  his  debts." 

He  gave  a  document  to  Hayes,  who  studied  it  with 


336        THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

surprise.  "  I  presume  you're  serious?  "  the  latter  said 
with  an  effort.  "  You  are  rasher  than  I  thought  if 
you  can  make  this  offer  good." 

"  I  can  certainly  make  it  good.  You  had  better  ap- 
ply to  the  bank  manager  if  you  have  doubts." 

For  a  few  moments  Hayes  studied  Kit,  who  looked 
quietly  resolute.  Then  he  said,  "  You  are  determined 
to  oppose  me  if  I  don't  consent?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Kit.  "  I  mean  to  buy  all  the  land  Mr. 
Osborn  has  pawned.  If  you  want  it,  you'll  have  to 
pay  the  price  I  fix,  since  it  must  be  a  public  sale.  Don't 
you  think  it  would  be  prudent  to  accept  my  offer?  " 

Hayes  clenched  his  fist,  but  with  an  effort  preserved 
his  self-control.     "  I  am  forced  to  agree." 

"  Very  well.  Take  the  documents  to  my  lawyers 
and  as  soon  as  they  are  satisfied  I'll  give  you  a  check." 

Hayes  nodded  silently,  and  bowing  to  Mrs.  Osborn 
went  out.     When  he  had  gone,  Osborn  got  up. 

"  Vv'^e  have  not  been  good  friends  —  Kit,"  he  said 
with  some  emotion.  "  Old  prejudices  are  hard  to  con- 
quer, but  mine  have  broken  down  at  last  —  you  have 
beaten  me.  Well,  I  suppose  I  would  not  admit  that 
the  code  I  clung  to  had  gone  for  good,  but  now  I'm 
dropping  out,  I  don't  know  that  I  could  find  a  better 
man  to  step  into  my  place."  He  paused  and  gave  Kit 
his  hand.  "  After  all,  Tarnside  is  not  lost  to  us. 
Grace  will  follow  me  —  she  belongs  to  the  new  school, 
but  I  think  your  children  will  rule  the  old  house  well." 

Then  Mrs.  Osborn  advanced  and  kissed  Kit,  who 
went  out  with  her  and  found  Grace  waiting  in  the  hall. 

"  Hayes  has  gone,"  Mrs.  Osborn  remarked.  "  Kit 
has  forced  him  to  agree,  and  your  father  is  reconciled. 
We  have  had  much  trouble,  but  I  think  we  shall  all 
be  happy  yet." 

Grace  looked  up  and  her  eyes  shone.     "  Ah,"  she 


1 


OSBORN'S  SURRENDER  337 

said,  "I  knew  long  since  that  Kit  was  wonderful! 
In  one  way,  it  wouldn't  have  mattered  if  he  had  saved 
Tarnside  or  not;  but  now  you  and  father  know  what 
a  dear  he  is !  " 


THE  END 


AA    000  608  456    o 


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